


Weave of Time

by Prettyburgerprincess



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Happy Ending, Human Elena Gilbert, Impossible Pregnancy, Pining, Plot With Porn, Runaway, Slow Burn, Time Travel, everybody ends up friends yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:02:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 156,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prettyburgerprincess/pseuds/Prettyburgerprincess
Summary: Pregnant, on the run, terrified out of her mind. All these things are worth it when Elena gets her man back in the circle of her arms. It’s worth it. It has to be.For her, for them, for their baby.
Relationships: Elena Gilbert/Elijah Mikaelson
Comments: 160
Kudos: 412





	1. Tell Me

Elena put the last photo she had taken with her happy family in the rucksack and zipped it shut, though the zip didn't close all the way and Jenna's face beamed out from the little gap between the teeth. Her room, tidied compulsively, looked as though she had simply gone to school.

When her sneakers hit the pavement, she realized how scary dark it was. She gave her home a last longing look, considering the letter she had left in the letterbox for Jer. Would it be enough?

 _It has to be,_ she thought. _Because if I write any more, I’m going to lose my nerve_.

As she walked, she thought more about the whole... predicament. Her eyes were hot and she felt like she'd been crying for a year, even though she'd only shed a handful of tears. Her head pounded, which made the thinky part of her situation hard, but she tucked her hands deep into her pockets and let her feet take her on auto-pilot as she marched her way determinedly to the highway.

Her boobs hurt and tramped down on the niggling thought at the back of her mind that made her think she would be safe in her hometown.

The third time she heard a truck approach at her back, her feet were hurting and her body was shivering, and the sun was threatening to out her from the shadows. She turned to face it and pulled off her beanie, determined to catch the ride. It slowed with good time and pulled up with enough space between them that she had to jog out to get to the door.

She pulled it open and got on her tip-toes to see the driver.

He was a chubby old man, ruddy cheeked and peering down at her, both hands on the wheel in his flannel sleeves. He looked like the grubby, grumpy version of Santa Claus.

"You alright, hon?"

"Can I catch a ride?"

"Where you off to?"

"Literally anywhere but here," she said, a touch of urgency in her voice. She decided to tell him, make him understand. "I'm - I'm pregnant."

"Oh," he said, and got out of the truck. For a horrible moment, she thought he was coming around to do something nefarious. She wasn't sure if running would hurt the baby, but she got ready to take off the second this went sour. But grumpy Santa just unfolded a series of steps near her open door, and offered her a hand. "Here y'are, hon. Get on in out the cold, now."

"Thank you." She took his hand and threw the bag in before she semi-awkwardly climbed up into the truck, letting him close the door behind her. It was much warmer, and much higher, than she'd anticipated. She clutched her beanie in both hands and started to pull on the pompom as the man climbed in.

He checked the rear view, then shifted into gear and started driving.

"How far along?"

"Four months."

"Startin' to pop?"

"I started to pop a few weeks ago," she told her beanie.

"You're skinny, s'why." He was quiet for a moment. "You need some food?"

"I'm fine, thank you." She stared out the window. "Where are you going?"

"North Carolina. That okay?"

"That's fine." She nodded. "Thank you for the lift."

"Not a problem," he said, waving off the good deed. "If y' wanted to wait around for a day or so in Carolina, I'm goin' on t' Texas, if that means anythin' to you."

"I might." She wouldn't.

Putting her eggs all in one basket was a mistake she knew not to make. Too many Stephan King novels had put enough wayward on-the-run knowledge into her head for her to think that one kind trucker would be her entire salvation. No. She had someone else for that, but she needed to get away from prying eyes, first.

"The daddy a bad man?" he wondered. At her pause, he continued: "You don't have to tell me, hon, but you should know I ain't gonna cross paths with anyone you know. Pass the time, or such, while you're here."

"Therapy on wheels," she joked, earned a scoff from him.

"I'm old 'nuff 'n' ugly 'nuff to know a couple things 'bout the world, maybe," he said with a shrug. "I know talkin' helps. Doesn't get caught up in your head."

She considered.

"You're the first person I've told I'm pregnant," she said softly.

He glanced over at her, his wiry brows lifting in surprise.

"Y' didn't tell y' momma?"

"No momma." She nodded. "No father. My aunt – my guardian - was murdered. The man who was looking after us - me and my brother - he left."

"Oh, shit," he muttered.

"Yeah." She stared at her beanie again. It was an old one, and the stitching was starting to stretch in the seam.

"No friends?"

"Can't be trusted. Not with this." She shut her eyes. "It's... complicated."

"We got time." He checked the GPS mounted on the windscreen. "We got hours."

She took a minute of those offered hours to think. How could she explain? It wasn't easy, not even to her.

"I..." she opened her eyes.” There were these brothers."

"Ooch, never good to get in the way o' family."

"No kidding." She smiled, though it wasn't entirely happy. "I fell in love with the youngest. He fell in love with me. But so did his older brother."

The driver seemed to gather something.

"He didn't..." he glanced at her belly. ”He didn't - hurt you?"

"No, no, he didn't," she reassured him, and saw his hands loosen on the wheel. She wondered why he'd been so worried. She realized in his situation, she would've been equally as worried. "They-... They were a lot. There is just so much history there. It wasn't with either of them - I was trying to help someone. I was working with a friend-"

"He the father?"

"She's a girl, so I hope not."

That, at least, got a snort out of him.

"Was it a one-night-stand?" he wanted to know. "No judgment."

She considered it.

"That is… also complicated. It was and it wasn’t," she said quietly. "To help my friend I had to go away. Far, far away to – find, something, for her. And there was this guy there, who was patient and kind, who just wanted to talk to me. He was just -... so loving, and gentle." She put a hand on her stomach, felt the warmth in her palm echo in her stomach. The baby hadn't moved, yet, but she kind of hoped it would.

"You feelin' okay?" he said gruffly. "Mornin' sick?"

"It's mostly passed, now," she agreed. "It was bad. I couldn't smell anything without sticking my head in a bowl."

"So was my wife's." He tapped a photo hanging from the rear view, swinging after his touch. There was a woman with a big smile, big belly, and red hair. The man, a little younger than his current self, was clean shaven and standing behind three kids. "For the first one, we had to put our dogs out for five months. But as she went on with my sons she didn't mind so much. She barely even noticed little Alice until I said somethin' to her 'bout her waist!"

Elena laughed.

"I bet she didn't like that."

"Oh no, she did not." He was smiling behind his beard, because his jolly cheeks filled up around his eyes and made them shiny. "I was in the doghouse for at least a week. Best time of my life - I had another baby on the way, and that woman snores like the devil. Win-win."

She laughed. It was good just to talk babies and not think babies. She didn't know what she was supposed to do with her hands, but linking them on her stomach felt good. She wasn't sure if a baby could get cold in there, so she pressed the beanie flat between her hands and held it that way, just in case.

"So this guy, the father," he went on. "He knows what’s goin’ on?"

"No." She swallowed. "I'm not sure I want him to know."

"Why?"

"Because his family is... complicated."

"I thought you said he was kind?"

"He is. Was." She looked at him with a sad smile. "It's complicated."

"I hope y' don't think that after the baby's born it gets any _less complicated_ ," he warned cheerfully. "Babies complicate a mess o' things outta the simplest of lives. How you gon' pay for everything a baby needs? How you gon' get it to school? How you gon' work and then spend time with the little one to even teach talkin' or walkin', or when they start to learn how to grab things? Holy God in heaven, that's the time when it gets _real wild_. They git in everything. You gotta get those uh, I can't 'member what they called, but they're these ties to keep your doors shut, 'cuz babies, once they start movin', they on the move, all the time, and they'll put everything in their mouthes, includin' the dog if it's too stupid to t’ git out the way."

See, that was the part she hadn't thought of. The after, part. She had planned to be on the run for the rest of her pregnancy, and then have the baby. She and a baby would be less likely to be found by certain Salvatore brothers who were solely looking for her.

"If I reach out to him," she said quietly. "There's a chance I lose the baby."

He blinked, his joyful baby ramble coming to a halt.

"Will he wanna abort?" He blinked. "He can't do that to you, hon, only you can do that."

"He might want full custody," she corrected. Her hands tightened a little on her belly. She willed it to move, give her a sign that she was doing the right thing. "His family might... raise it, wrong. Raise it to be like them."

"Are the rest not kind like your fella?"

"They're..." She searched for words. Found only one. "Damaged."

"You're worried it's gon' get raised wrong like you won't be there," he chided. "It's the twenty-first century, nothin' will happen t' you t' make you go away, and you're a sweet enough girl that you'll show that baby the right way of things."

“My sweetness might not be a match for the rest of their habits,” she informed him, somewhat under her breath. “I get a little bit bitter when they’re around.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

She’d been terrified of Klaus long before she even had a face to put to the name – and she was scared of him still, thirsting after her doppelgänger blood - if he decided on a whim to reignite his whole hunt for the perfect hybrid army, thing, she’d be first on his long list of things to do. But beyond Klaus, how many times had Rebekah threatened her life? She'd helped Jeremy kill Kol, been instrumental in killing Finn.

 _Uncles,_ said Damon's nasty, biting voice in her head. _You killed your baby's uncles._

_Complicated._

"Mind," he went on, playfully. "Runnin' away from your problems in a trucker's cabin and havin' unsafe sex on y' holidays ain't exactly lessons I would pass on, myself."

Elena laughed, because it was true. Her parents had barely given her the sex talk before they'd died. She was firmly of the opinion that not only would her child be raised to be safe at all times, she or he would be raised in a good, loving home.

Klaus was incapable of love.

Or had he done everything he had done because he'd loved his family so much…?

He'd never switched off his emotions. So did that make him justified? Or did it make him certifiably insane?

"I don't know what I'll do," she said softly. "But I can't go back home."

"Y'said you have a brother?"

"Younger. He's still in school."

"Doesn't mean he can't help out. What about the brothers, ain't you in love with one of them?"

She thinned her lips.

"If they found out I was pregnant, they could guess who the father is," she explained carefully. "There's bad blood there. And they would make my life, or the baby's life, impossible. They're already strangling me. I won't let them strangle my baby."

He flinched at the words, the image, it conjured, but that was how Elena had been feeling for weeks upon weeks. Stefan would've been a fantastic father, but she wasn't going to risk Uncle Damon being an ever present dark stain on what should've been a bright white light. And Damon? He had love in him, too. He had a deep, terrifying love, and her baby would never be safer than with him.

Only, maybe, if they thought the father was an Original. Then that baby would become a weapon; a bargaining tool. And she couldn’t do that, now, could she?

"Complicated," he agreed, staring out the window.

She nodded, leaned her head back into the rest.

"If you wanna sleep," he said mildly. "We got the better part of three hours to get to where we're gettin'. S'early for a young mama bear to be up and runnin'."

"I might," she said, and before she knew it, was dead to the world.


	2. Tell Me More

His name was Gregory Peck. He was a father of three going on four. His wife's name was Maggie, short for Margret. He lived in Texas. He told her, twice and three times, that if the baby was born and she had nowhere to go, then she should call him or send him an email, and he would find her a place. They had a bunch of old baby things she could have, because he was sure that the rest of his family would pool together and get his next one new clothes if he asked.

He wished her luck, gave her a sad look, and drove away.

The sun had risen to a cloudless day.

Elena started walking.

There had been a great many things that had happened to her, since her parent's death. She'd been beaten and cut and bruised and burned and all of those things had been the emotional equivalent to a flyswatter. She'd fallen in love, and been broken hearted, been terrified and elated and shocked and so, so happy.

The baby was all of these things. But none of these things. The way Elena felt for her unborn child was nothing like anything, but everything all at once. It was so simple, in her mind. It didn't matter how far or how long she had to walk, if her baby was safe at the end of the day, then it was the only thing that mattered.

Gregory's words did inspire her to think forward, though.

How would she afford a good life? What would she do? No one would hire her when she was visibly pregnant and about to take leave. She couldn't go to college and get a good job. She knew that any of her bank accounts would be traced through Sheriff Forbes and a little compelling argument from literally any one of her friends.

She wondered if the timer had ticked down. If someone was already missing her. The phone connected to her old life was shut off.

The burner phone, programmed with one number, was cold in her hand when she flipped it open. It was colder again when she pressed it to her face.

"This had better be," came Elijah's very patient voice. "Important."

"It's me," she said, voice thick. She checked her surroundings, all the bleary eyed truckers, the quiet waitress and the CCTV camera mounted in the corner, before pushing open the door and leaving. It was still early in the morning, and there was hardly any traffic. Thinking better of the vague explanation – he knew at least one other person with her exact voice, she clarified: "Sorry. I’m not Katherine. It's Elena."

"Elena?" Elijah's voice, though suddenly much more pleasant, was also much more surprised. She heard his blankets rustling in her ear, could picture him checking the time. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Heart in her throat, no traffic lighting up either way, she pressed a hand to her face and then her stomach, and kept walking. It wasn't just _her_ , anymore. Maybe she could live in squalor, but the baby shouldn't be condemned to it.

He'd been so kind to her. He was different. Maybe he would be different again.

"Are you alright?" he asked at her pause. She could hear his bed sheets moving and it was so distracting she nearly fell over. He'd slept on his side with one arm around her and kept her warm when the winter had been so cold. The memory of his smell filled her nose and brought new tears to her eyes. She'd missed him. She'd missed him _so much_. "Elena?"

"I'm _sorry_ ," she said, shaking her head. She wiped her eyes on her sleeves, then sucked back all the shocked air that spilled out of her mouth. "I'm sorry - about the - about the time. But - I just - I can't tell you on the phone."

"Where are you?"

"Running away." She sped up her walk to a certified trot. Was she allowed to run with a baby? All she knew was a flash of advice from an old Sex in the City episode. Or was it one of the movies?

"Has Damon done something?" he guessed.

"No, but he might." She swallowed hard. "Everyone will. You can't tell Klaus. Don't tell anyone. I know – I know this is so… So random, and you really don’t have a reason to trust me, but could you-? Meet me somewhere? Far away from Mystic Falls, and far away from where you are now."

There was a pause on his end. She heard his quiet sigh of resignation - she hadn't been completely sure that he would come without a good reason, but she'd been sure enough - and then the heavy pull of a thick comforter thrown back.

"I know a place," he said simply, and although her burning eyes were trained on the line of the road she now followed, she felt her world shift out of balance. Gratitude swept into her lungs like a tidal wave, punched out the air that had been in there.

He would meet her.

"Elijah, I-..." She kept walking. The birds in the trees were singing good mornings to each other. She wondered if Jeremy was out of bed yet. She firmed her shoulders, squinting stinging eyes against the sun. "It's important that this is between you and me, and us alone. No cameras, no credit cards. No trace. Not for humans, not for witches, nothing. I'm cloaked, but it won't extend to you."

"As you wish."

"It's the most important thing-" her traitorous voice cracked. She felt a car rush past her and sucked up the sob that threatened to leave, hoping he didn't hear it. "The most important thing in my life. Please."

"I believe you," he said softly. "I know you wouldn't call me for anything less than life-threatening."

"It's _more_ than that," she retorted urgently, then softened her voice, thought of his warm, tender hands, the tiny kisses he would give her when they were alone. Stolen behind trees and homes, pressed so gently against her hairline, the one or two cheeky times he dove in to press his mouth to her throat when other people could see. "Elijah..."

He waited for her to continue, but her words were wobbly and uncertain. She couldn't tell him over the phone. That would've been a particular kind of cruel. He deserved better.

"I'll send you the address," he offered quietly. "I'll be there in a matter of hours."

She didn't know what else to say to that. She thanked him, and hung up, catching the first few tears in her sleeve. There wasn't _time_ for crying. She felt the phone vibrate, then looked at the address - Atlanta. It was going to take her nearly all day to get there, but then, she didn't know where he was coming from, either.

No one in her town did.

It'd be the last place they looked, wouldn't it? No one would suspect that innocent cheerleader Elena Gilbert was knocked up and hanging out with noble history buff Elijah Mikealson, right?

* * *

She arrived at the lakeside after he did, and she had walked the last hour of her journey to get there.

Trust Elijah to have picked a wayward all-natural spa and retreat, tucked into the earth, no electricity and full of incense enough that her stomach rolled. She wasn't sure if it was leftover morning sickness or the baby. Honestly, it could've been both.

Elena saw his car before she saw him, the one sleek black one in the middle of all the rest, spotless and brand new. His door swung open to reveal him, neat in a slate grey three-piece-suit, buttoning his jacket with an overcoat slung over his arm.

The urge to run crept out of an exhausted body, so she broke even and trotted over to him, crashing into his waiting arms. He said nothing for a while, just held her while she breathed him in, his pretty cologne soothing the irritation the incense stirred in her nose.

"Elena," he said, smoothing her hair back from her head.

"I'm sorry," she whispered brokenly into his collar. "I didn't know who else to call."

"I gathered as much," he assured her, still holding her firmly to him.

A terrible memory of when he’d once held her flashed into her eyes. She had been laughing with pure joy. He'd been ecstatic that she'd mastered the bow under his advice, so pleased with her he couldn't contain himself - even when his father saw and it caused trouble for him.

She trembled and knew that even though it was faint, he felt it. She shut her eyes tight and just breathed him in, felt her head fit against the perfect curve of his shoulder, so, so tired. She thought of his hands, gentle on her even now, and the pump of his heart under her ear.

Did it skip a beat when she tightened her hands on his back?

She pushed away. He didn't know. It wasn't fair, to either of them. But her eyes just didn't want to look at his face, so she settled to stare at his shoes, biting her lip to keep a blur of words from escaping.

"Shall we sit?" he offered.

"In the car, if you don't mind." She knew other people were milling around. Didn't trust them.

"Here." He lifted his arms and draped the coat around her, swamping her further in material. She felt eclipsed already, what with her hair tucked down her jacket collar and beanie over her brow.

Her back was already aching from the poor seats of old trucks - she had managed another two conveniently going her way, after Gregory, and both were a far cry from the friendly old man who'd picked her up initially - but that was why she'd been later than she should've. She should've beaten him by about an hour, but instead she'd been late by one.

When she sat down, she yanked the beanie off, and unravelled her hair with a long sigh. She shifted in the seat, adjusting it to lean back a little, and wrapped his coat around her as far as it would go, nestling into the upturned collar.

"You look ill," he said, tactfully, given that she kind of looked like a zombie. Caroline had said so, anyway, last time she'd seen Caroline. His eyes did not stray to her stomach, even though it was the most noticeable when she sat down and she knew it - mostly because his own coat was hiding it. "How may I be of service to you?"

She took a big breath in.

"Just listen, and then we can figure out what to do," she said, and released her breath, shifting to find some kind of lumbar support for her aching back. "Bonnie did a spell. It was supposed to send my mind back in time to Tatia. I was only supposed to watch." She reached up to rub the back of her neck. Her boobs were so sore.

"I'm assuming the nature of the spell went awry," he guessed mildly.

She nodded, looking at the knees of her jeans. They were once Jeremy's. They were the only jeans that fit her now.

"Because doppelgänger magic is different, the spell worked differently. She didn't send my _mind_ for a little while. She sent _me._ "

"For how long?"

She lifted her eyes to him.

This was it, the important part. The lying part. She had his total, utter, and full attention, and he would be able to know if she lied. But hopefully he would be in shock. Hopefully he wouldn't notice. Hopefully, the careful omission of her truth would be enough to make him believe in her.

It was imperative he _never_ realised how long she'd been there.

"I was only gone from here for a little while," she said quietly, urgently. That wasn't a lie. Kind of. "But it was long enough, for... things, to happen."

"There?" he repeated. "In time?"

"A thousand years," she agreed, and swallowed again. She was bold. She met his stare with her own, too dry to be unblinking. But she continued anyway, knowing he would see her truth and hopefully not the carefully worded lie. "I was... there."

"You were in Tatia's body?" He frowned, only a little.

"I-" Her eyes were filled with unshed tears. No. _No more crying_. She looked out the front window. God, his hair was short. She wiped her face with his sleeve, the wool abrasive and unkind. "I thought so too. I thought I was in _her_ body. But it was mine. I-... What happened, it happened to _my body_."

He leaned forward and took her hand; she flinched but wrapped trembling fingers around his own. She could feel herself losing the fight to stay coherent. She'd imagined this conversation a lot of ways, but his following question had never crossed her mind.

"Who hurt you?" he asked, clearly.

"It's not about that," she whispered. "And I want to keep it that way, so now I've cut out _everyone_. Everyone. I don't want anyone else to know what I'm about to tell you."

"You can't possibly, Elena," he told her. "You, who love your people more than anyone else in this world. I'm sure that, whatever the problem-"

"They hate you and your family more than they love me." Her tears fell, and she took her hand away from his to scrub her face with fists in his too-long sleeve, red marks blooming under her skin. She was _sick_ of wanting to cry. _Hormones._ "If they thought - that they could get you - or maybe Klaus - back for what you all put us through - what your family has put - so many people through... I would never - _ever_ forgive myself and this - this isn't - this is just, too, too important -"

"Tell me," he urged. 

"We-" She swallowed. Took a breath. "I didn't-... It was like a dream. You were - so - so kind, and -" Her husky voice cracked on the explanation that poured from her mouth. Her head was down. She dragged his coat away from her stomach and then picked up one of his hands, urging it over to the full swell of her stomach. He went where she put him, and allowed her to flatten his fingers until he felt the press of the tiny heartbeat inside.

He stared with his eyebrows up.

Elena's heart was thrashing around her ribs like a newly caged bird. The baby within her, though, was much calmer, even when he blurred and suddenly had his ear right up against her stomach, bowing across the car to do so. She could see the fan of his lashes against his cheek. The urge to touch them made her hands clench into fists.

"Elijah," she said lamely. "I stink."

"Is the baby mine?" he asked, rather placidly, all things considered.

"It can't be anyone else's."

He lifted his head, still touching her belly, staring at it as though it contained all the answers to his many unasked questions. Bewildered. Entranced. His mouth was open, no noise coming out.

She let the information process, knew that he needed the time. It was the right thing to do. He wasn't moving, but his eyes were growing glassier by the second. Maybe a minute, maybe two, maybe a year later, he took a deep, deep breath.

"Are you certain?" he breathed.

"It was you. I almost didn't realize," she said. Lie. If he was listening he would've heard it. But he was staring at his hand, the one with the daylight ring, the one pressed against the outside of her tummy. "Your hair was long, and all down. It was dark."

"No one else knows?" he confirmed, eyes flicking up to her face for the briefest of moments.

"No one." She swallowed hard. One of her numb hands was pressed over his on her stomach and he blinked rapidly. The damn sleeves were so long only her fingertips touched him, and it wasn't even _close_ to being enough.

"You didn't even tell Caroline?"

"I didn't even say it out loud," she replied firmly. "I'm not kidding, Elijah, no one can know."

He nodded absently, slowly. When his thumb made a pass over the firmness of her stomach, she flinched, and it triggered one in him, making him sit straight and put his hands purposefully on the wheel of his car.

He glanced over at her - she was already bundling back into his coat to hide the bump - then out the windscreen.

"You left Mystic Falls?"

"I made up a reason. I didn't do it quickly. I took time. It had to be done right. I've got a ward against magic locators but that was the easy part, because if there's cameras or a paper trail you know they'll find me. But I had to be careful, because if they figured out why I really ran, they might guess what happened when I went back, or who it was likely the baby belongs to," she said. "The amount of enemies your family have..."

"How far-?" His Adam’s apple bopped in his throat. "Are you along?"

"Four months, I think. I haven't - I haven't had any scans, I haven't taken any pre-natal pills, I didn't even check for two months because I was still getting my -" She flushed to tell him. She'd gotten her period. Like, the lighter version of her period, anyway, for the two months after she'd been home. Vaguely, she recalled in a class that sometimes spotting happened. "I don't even Google the questions because if anyone decides to try and figure out why I left outside of the reason I gave them, all they need to do is open my laptop."

"No one knows?" he repeated.

"No one," she confirmed. "Even -"

His mother had always been the first to know when a woman had conceived. Within the week of conception, she could tell by a woman's changed energy, or so she told Elena. She'd looked at Elena so strangely, the day before she'd left. Given her a slow up and down, and then a secretive smile.

"No one knows," she said dully. "I made sure. I told everyone I wasn't coping with Jenna dying and dumped Stefan. I left a note, and I got on the first truck this morning that picked me up."

She'd missed him so terribly that being in his proximity and not touching him was pure agony. She tried to make herself smaller, tried to make the jacket larger, fit around her like the hug she desperately needed and wouldn't ask for.

"I thought-... Back then..." He lowered his voice. His eyes were flitting across the lake's surface as though he read a book. He was not the sweet man who once couldn't take his eyes off of her when she was so close to him. But he was the man that she had known first; the one with a thousand years and bad memories of the bitch who wore her face. "You... We..."

"Were together," she whispered, and slid further in her seat. Heat pooled in her cheeks. "Yes."

"I thought you were Tatia?"

"Yes, but..." She wet her lips, chin trembling. She sunk into his coat, let his particular scent soothe her sensitive nose. She could smell damn near everything. The leather in the car was making her nauseous. "The magic was weird and it made my brain spin and it was all just so - and - you were - the way you looked at me - looked at _her_ \- you were so - you _loved_ her. It was - it was like a dream to me - I didn't - it wasn't like I... so I just - I just - it was easier to... Let it happen."

"Let it happen," he repeated.

"I knew," she went on, breathless. He looked dead eyed and paler than usual. "After I got back. I remembered your face, but at the time..." Lie. Lie. Lie.

"You didn't know it was me," he said succinctly.

"I wasn't sure," she stressed. "I didn't know anything. It was dark. I didn't mean to - be with you."

"You didn't mean to."

"Elijah, I'm sorry-"

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Because I knew the spell was risky and it - it just _spiraled_. I know it was my fault, but I couldn't stop myself when you were so - you were _so_ -..." She shut her eyes, and two tandem tears fell down her cheeks.

"Elena," his voice was grave, and his pallor sickly. She wanted to embrace him, lead his head to her chest and hold him there, as she had done an age ago.

Mere months, for her. A millennia, for him.

She shifted, back sore and emotions on edge.

"I am the one who is sorry. More sorry than you will ever believe." His lashes were wet, brow drawn. There was no blood left in his mouth. "If I had known that it were not my Tatia, even for an instant, I never would have taken something from you that you weren't willing to give. I am so, so sorry, Elena."

"You never-" Her eyes flew open. She grabbed his arm with both hands, and found it rock hard from his grip on the wheel. " _Ever_ , took from me."

He took a deep, fortifying breath, and smoothed his free hand over his face.

"You didn't know who was-" He seemed to weigh the next word very carefully. " _With_ you. That does not mean that you wanted me."

She watched his eyes go to her stomach, apparently fascinated even behind the miles of coat hanging off of her. His dark eyes half lidded to disguise whatever was truly going on behind the lens of his stare, then he looked back out the window, jaw clenched.

"Elijah," her voice cracked on the word. No, no, no. If she had just told him the truth- "Elijah, no, that's not right. You didn't - you didn't hurt me, I promise. Please."

He wasn't blinking. He barely looked like he was breathing.

"Elijah, please." She pulled on his arm, and he let her. She parted the coat and dragged his hand back to her stomach, grounding him in the flutter of the baby's heart. "You _never_ hurt me. I need your help now - you're the only one I can ask, okay? Please, if I had even hated you an inch for what happened, I wouldn't have reached out to you. Besides, I killed you, remember?"

He shut his eyes, hand framing around the curve of her full stomach.

"I need your honesty, Elena, in just one matter," he prompted. "And then we are getting out of this car and getting you fed and warm before we decide where to go from here."

She nodded, feeling every muscle unwind. That was all she wanted. Help.

Whatever he saw in her face when he managed to drag his eyes up, she would never know. Because the next thing he said made her clutch his wrist before he could retrieve it.

"You're so young," he realized softly. "You're just a child."

"I am _not_ ," she firmed her tone and gave him a look of such heat that it made his mouth curl into a much wider smile. "I know I am to you, but everyone is."

She didn't like it, knowing him as though she had known him all her life, when she only knew the mismatch of who he'd been and who he'd grown into. The Elijah who'd snuck her out under the stars to read her fortune was not the same man who had breathed in at her neck whilst she was held kidnapped. Her traitorous hands _would not let go_ of his arm, piping hot through the shirt, though she didn't look at him.

She felt his thumb move over her baby. Their baby. It felt good. Right.

"Why did you come to me?" he asked her gently. "You could've had this child and I never would've guessed. You could've - chosen not, to have this child, or give them away. I must know. Why did you come to me?"

She shut her eyes again, leaned her weary head to the car seat, grateful that his coat acted as a buffer between the sharp leather and her nose.

"It wasn't fair," she said, easing her grip on his wrist once she was sure he wouldn't pull away. "Not to the baby, who I can't support by myself in the way that I want. Not to you, who can't have kids. This is your one shot, I know. But... I was scared. I'm still scared."

"Of me?"

"Klaus." Was all her closing throat would allow her to say.

"Klaus would no more hurt his family than you could," he assured her, voice low and gentle. "And he would never harm an innocent child."

"Babies grow up," she retorted, eyes flashing open to glare at him. "If you live in Klaus' pocket, he would force whatever deluded ideas and twisted version of righteousness he thought was justifiable by his own life experiences, and I won't have that for my baby."

"Our baby," he said softly.

"Yeah," she conceded, relaxing into the plush leather seat once more.

They sat like that for a time, allowing him to touch her as he saw fit, hand light and curious. He was stonewalling, she could tell, but it only reached his face. His eyes, the depth in them, was full of spinning cogs and wheels, thinking fast, dangerous thoughts.

"Food," he announced suddenly, taking his hands back into his space. "Shower. Rest. You look as though you need it."

"What are you going to do?" she countered, ignoring how amazing a good shower and a snooze would be.

"I'm going to go through the motions," he said politely. "Of discovering there is a teenage doppelgänger pregnant with my child from a thousand years in the past. And then we shall talk more on where we go from here."

She hesitated.

He touched her chin with the very tips of his fingers, then withdrew.

"Will you-?" she breathed out. He was so gentle with her. His first concern after hearing she was pregnant with his miracle child was that he'd in some way traumatized her. "You're not going to tell anyone?"

"No," he said, and nodded. "Perhaps not at all. We will see."

He was out of the car and opening her door in a blur.


	3. I Didn't Sleep At All

The room they rented was the equivalent of a penthouse, but as the resort was all one length of building, it ended up being the most ridiculously huge room facing the lake with roof to floor windows.

It was bracketed it sheer curtains, crisp, thousand thread count linens, and deep wooden furniture that cast her mind back to a different time. The time she'd gotten pregnant in.

There was only one bed, but it was huge, with long drapes hanging from each spiraled post. She followed the compelled manager in, listened to the list of things they would be getting for free - the back rub sounded amazing - and politely waited until he was finished the spiel before tugging on Elijah's sleeve.

"Room service?" she murmured.

"Of course. What will you have?"

"Steak well done," she felt her smile despite the somber mood. "And ice cream. No garlic, no onions. I will be sick, it will be horrific."

He looked at the manager with one eyebrow up, and Elena was almost entirely sure he didn't even touch his compulsion for the man to be skittering off, bowing as he exited.

"Do you know if I can take a bath?" she winced, feeling as though it were a stupid question. "I mean - the hot water?"

"I don't think so." He nodded slowly. "Neither of us are exactly prepared for this, no."

"I've only been having lukewarm showers anyway," she confessed, wrapping her arms around her waist, feeling the protrusion of a belly that still didn't feel entirely like hers. She'd never had a belly, before, and in Jeremy's jeans and Elijah's coat, she felt every single inch.

"You're cold?" he asked.

_No, I just feel fat and gross._

"Yeah," she shrugged. "It comes and goes."

He eyed her small duffle.

"Are there enough clothes in there for you to be comfortable?"

She grimaced.

"Maybe for a few weeks, at the rate it's growing." She lifted a foot and shook the long hem of the ripped jean at him. "Jeremy's are the only jeans that fit. I've got leggings somewhere in there, but I wasn't game enough to try before I left in case someone saw the... uh... bump."

He nodded, eyes roving over the bag, narrowing slightly.

"I see," he said, and dug out his phone, opening it to tap the keys. His eyes scanned the page, then looked up at her, and oh, yeah, she'd been staring. It was hard not to. She was 100% thinking about the last time she'd kissed him. "The internet tells me you can take a bath, but not hot enough to raise your core body temperature."

"Oh, okay." So her ideas of a long blisteringly hot soak floated out of her brain. "I figured as much."

The bathroom was not enclosed, but rather, on a raised platform, and everything was trimmed in gold-leaf, including the taps, the rainfall shower head mounted on the roof, and the claws on the bathtub. There was a modesty screen beside it, so that was helpful. Elena went to pick up her bag but it was already in Elijah's hand. She startled but wasn't sure why.

His mouth turned down at the corners.

"I only meant to lift it," he explained. "To avoid you having to bend. You may have your things."

"Thanks."

He passed her the bag and then physically turned his back on her, tapping away at his phone as he strode to the other side of the room and pressed a button that made the curtains whir and shut. Once the room was darkening, the lights automatically switched on to dim, which he was quick to slide to a much brighter setting, eyes still stuck to the screen.

 _Stop staring_ , whispered Stefan's voice.

 _I'm gazing_. She wanted to reply, and turned toward the tub.

The water was barely warm, but she didn't care. Three different trucks and hours’ worth of walking had combined in all the gross places on her body, and made her look much grimier and more zombie like than she'd last seen.

"Ugh." She whipped her beanie off and put it down on the vanity, dumping her bag there too. The circles under her eyes were dark and prominent, and her skin - even though it had been clearing up - was bumpy between her brows and on her chin, right in the shiny patches that had cultivated during her day.

Her hair was gross on top, thanks to a sometimes too-warm sweaty beanie, and if her eyes had ever been without bolts of red, she couldn't remember it.

She pulled off Elijah's coat and hung it over the back of the chair, tugging the zipper down on her own jacket. The shirt underneath was her own, but it hadn't always been a shirt. It had been a baby doll cut, blue sundress. Sure, it was gaining steam as just a little too short on her thighs to be sweet and girlish, but not anymore. The slightly too long ends were tucked into her waist band and when she pulled it loose, it settled prettily around her protruding bump.

She turned sideways, pressed a hand down under it.

"I've never even looked properly," she confessed, voice low. She tilted her head. "It's... surprisingly not as big as it feels. I thought I was bigger."

"Considering how small you were before," Elijah said into his phone, though he notably shifted to face away from her as though he'd been staring. "I don't doubt it."

"Hmm." She pulled a face, turned to the other side, like it was going to somehow change. She caught Elijah looking and wrinkled her nose at him playfully. "I feel like I've had bigger stomachs from a good burger. Hard to believe there's a baby happening in there."

He quirked his lips into a very quick mockery of a smile, and put his eyes back down on the phone.

She watched his reflection, the sharp jaw as he grit his teeth, and looked at his phone, apparently reading. She let the dress go and stepped out of her shoes, holding on to the vanity to pluck her socks off her feet and put them in the bag pocket.

Socks.

She rolled her eyes at her baby brain.

She'd only packed like two pairs of socks.

In the bathroom, she turned the taps on, testing the water on her hand before even putting in the plug. There was a too-long pause for her to read the bottles of complimentary shampoo and conditioner, and the bath gel. It smelled okay, but there was no way it would ever be enough to wash her miles of hair.

She thought about Elijah, and how he'd loved her hair. He'd been an excellent braider, and had let her practice on his hair once Rebekah had gotten over trying to teach her. He'd lean into her hands and shut his eyes, and talk to her about everything and nothing.

The Elijah of now was very quiet.

"Hey," she fiddled with the tie on her dress, wetting her lips. "Are you reading about baby stuff?"

"Yes." He, at least, looked up to inform her.

"Can you read it to me?" She gave him a quick smile.

He returned it. Hers had been much more genuine.

"Four months is the beginning of the second trimester." He read mechanically, and kept reading in the same tone, things that she already kind of knew from wayward TV shows and needed confirmed.

While he read, Elena pulled over the modesty board and heard him only break the monotonous rambling for a split second. But the screen was on wheels and moved without much effort, which he seemed to realize.

She closed the shutters and still felt naked, even before her clothes had come off. First her hair went up into a high bun with one of the three ties she kept around her wrist, and then Jeremy's jeans were hung over the top of the screen.

She felt the hem of her dress barely brush the tops of her thighs at the front, more dramatic at the back. Her boobs were very, very sore, and in the dress, made it hike even higher up. None of her old bras fit any more. She was in sports crop tops and nothing would ever change that.

Derobing complete, she stepped into the tub and sat while the water ran, wanting desperately to bring her knees to her chest. It didn't feel right. It didn't sound right. There were so many things she didn't know.

"What does it say about pre-natal pills?" she hollered out, her voice surprisingly rough.

He stopped reading for a few seconds.

"Recommended, though not strictly," he replied. "You might need more iron, and certain acids, which is the supplements you can take for now."

There was a pause.

"There is some debate on whether a good diet can be substituted for them, however."

"Oh." She leaned back, let the water splash her toes, felt her poor back anticipate the weightlessness of water. Her ankles were kind of gross looking. "Does it say my ankles will get bigger?"

"Yes, it's common." A pause. "Do you have soreness anywhere else?"

_Yes, my boobs are my no. 1 problem and I can't sleep but I'm exhausted all the time! Thanks, I hate it._

"Nothing excruciating," she told the roof.

As the bath filled, it started to take pressure off of everything that had been under pressure for the last full day. Her spine, her ankles, her feet were even complaining, and she'd worn her good sneakers. Her eyes were starting to feel heavy, though she wouldn't dare close them.

Not because Elijah was in the room, but because somewhere in her mind, she was very concerned that she'd drown and kill the baby.

Sometime after she’d filled the tub to her liking, she heard a knock, and the near instant later Elijah answering it, using a low voice that disguised whatever he was saying. There was a sharp snap and click of two different locks, then his shoes clicking smartly against the wooden floor to go to the dining area with what she could smell was clearly room service.

She truly wanted to eat in the tub - an old, very embarrassing habit - but got out with a slosh and wrapped up in the fluffy robe that had been hanging from the heated towel rack. Splashing her face with water from the sink, she slipped on the provided slippers and pulled the plug to drain the water, going into the quiet room to see Elijah sitting patiently across from a spread of food.

There was no hesitation. She got on that chair and immediately put ice cream in her mouth.

"You look better," he said, bowing his head to her.

"I feel better." She swallowed. "Thank you."

"For what?" he raised both brows at her.

"For just... being here..." She really wanted to talk and eat. She settled for digging into the bowl and getting a satisfying spoonful, then saying quickly: "I would've been in another truck, if I hadn't called you, probably still hungry and definitely still stinking."

He waited for her to look back up at him, which took several minutes while she cut into the steak and ate a mouthful of ice cream between each bite. But when he finally had her gaze, he caught her there.

"You never have to thank me a day for the rest of your life," he said clearly, his voice like velvet. His accent turned on certain words, in the way it had, a long, long time ago, when English was newer to his mouth. It made the little hairs on her neck stand on end. "The sheer magnitude of reverence I have for you in this moment is astronomical. How deeply, and how _desperately_ , I have wanted my own child, and for how long I've been _denied_. For you to have a warm bath and to be fed? It is no hardship of mine. It wouldn't have been were you without a baby."

She swallowed, though there was nothing in her mouth to swallow. Ah, there he was. Poet.

"It's still polite to say thank you, when people do nice things for you," she pointed out, and speared a shard of meat with a fork.

"Thank you, Elena," he said pleasantly. "For letting me know that this is happening. That it is real. That, is a kindness for which I will never have words enough."

She ducked her head.

"Don't worry about it," she told the table, and strictly didn't think about how close she had been to just... not telling him. To doing it rough, by herself. Other girls did it - some younger and less privileged than her - so why shouldn't she? She could've saved her baby the drama of the supernatural world.

But no. She'd run the both of them to the head of the most dangerous creatures on earth.

"Elena?"

She'd taken her innocent baby to the family that had spent a thousand years running from their homicidal father. Who had killed and maimed and frightened so many of her friends and family. And who had treated her...

And Mikeal had-

Mikeal had-...

She had some by product of _Mikeal_ in her body?

"Yeah," she said, faint to her own ears. She blinked, dragged her mind out of the dark place it had wondered. "Sorry. I'm-..."

 _You killed their brothers,_ Damon's voice taunted. _Your baby is only taking after the both of you!_

Her appetite well and truly gone, she sat back from the plates and stared at the ice cream. Moments ago, that steak would've been all the juicier for having it chased by a mouthful of creamy cold. Woah. Okay. Ew. Now suddenly... that sounded... like maggots. She swallowed hard, and pushed up, making a run for the bathroom to bend over the bowl.

The heaving, that was normal by now. There was only a little bit of leeway between the dry gagging and the part where the food shot up and out. Not everything made a comeback - she felt queasy, but not unbearably so, not like when she'd initially started her morning sickness.

 _And hey!_ Caroline’s bright voice said. _Remember that time you put your hand through the shower door? Classic vertigo. At least that’s gone! We’re on the up and up!_

"Morning sickness," she muttered, head pressed to her arm, arm on the seat. "Who had the nerve to call it 'morning sickness'? I've never thrown up before twelve. This is stupid."

Elijah was hovering, which she could sense more than feel.

"Water?" she asked the bowl, and it was barely finished reverberating in her head before a cool bottle was uncapped and handed down to her. Knowing her face was gross and swollen, and she'd made the most unattractive noises known to man while she was heaving, she accepted it without looking at him, swished and spat.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" The anxiety in his voice was nigh on devastating.

"I'm okay. It shouldn't be much longer." She reached up and flushed to spare him the sight and smell. "What did the internet say?"

"It said-" He dug around in his pocket, produced his phone, and started to read, more urgently, less mechanical. "-'Although it isn't uncommon for symptoms of morning sickness to carry on through the second and third trimesters, always check with your doctor if something doesn't feel right'."

"We need a doctor," she said. She meant 'we' - her and the baby. But she knew he heard it differently, because the hand that stroked over her shoulder was all _her Elijah_.

"I'll find one for us," he promised her, rubbing her back, on his haunches beside her. "You'll be in with the very best."

"We don't need the very best." She wiped her face on the sleeve of her puffy borrowed gown and turned to him, very aware that her breath smelled like ice-cream and throw up. "We need low-key and available."

"Yes," he nodded. "You're right."

The back rub was wonderful, even if it was a little unsure, and he stayed to the top of her shoulders. It didn't matter. It was nice to have him touching her.

"Thanks," she said, because that was manners, to thank someone who did something nice.

He smiled, warm. Much bigger than before. Better, but not the same, and certainly not as beautiful as it was when it was real and true and wide. But she took it, because the Elijah in this era had been hurt terribly, and she was glad he could still smile.

There was more nausea and she swallowed the flood of saliva in her mouth to stave off the throw up. Her legs were crampy from walking all day, and she wanted to curl into a ball, but again, she wasn't even sure if she was allowed to. Would it squash the baby?

Her eyes were just so heavy, and his hand was everything comforting in the world. She put her head back down on her arm, and waited for the rest to come, watching him.

"How did you get away with it, if you were this ill?" he prompted, taking a knee. Probably old enough to know there would be no movement from the porcelain throne, not for a long time.

"Jenna died before it started, Ric left, Jeremy thought I was drinking." She raised her brows at the memory, head lolling at the deeper swipe of his hand on her back. That was where the pain was, lower, emanating up from the base of her spine. But he didn't go that low, only as far as the middle of her shoulders. "Stefan was told to keep his distance, and Bonnie spelled Damon out of the house. I listened to a lot of loud music and camped out in Jenna's room for the separate bathroom."

Elijah's dark eyes were fixed on her face, concern marking every line of his features. It was a while before he spoke again, but when he did, she wished he hadn't.

"Your aunt," he said softly. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she said firmly, and wished she could do a little more than barely lift her head to make sure he knew she was serious.

"I won't push." He bowed his head to her. "If you ever needed a hit man, I happen to know a few."

She put her head back down and tried not to smile. That Viking justice shone out of his face. Before she'd travelled, she'd understood him to be different because of his age, but her time spent in his native era had made his behavior a lot simpler than it had once been.

"It's appreciated but not necessary," she said, voice gravelly. There was a roll in her stomach and she thought that maybe she'd throw up again. Wait... no... it had passed.

Wait... wait---

His fingers gathered the stray hair that had fallen out of her bun and pulled it back from where it had hung limply around her face, and the caress of his touch on her bare skin made her so nostalgic that tears sprang into her eyes. _Stop crying, idiot._ She ejected something solid, and he rubbed her back, and she tried to breathe when her stomach wasn't violently trying to reject her lungs.

"This is," she gasped. "So gross. You don't have to be here for this."

"I should've been there for you much earlier," he replied patiently. "Sitting with you while you do all the hard work is unfortunately going to be the way of things, for a little while."

 _It isn't going to be easy, for the hero_ , Stefan's voice said. _Maybe just let him do what he can._

She shut her eyes, flushed the toilet and wiped her eyes, before she put her head down on her arm.

"What've you been doing," she said, echoing back at her. "Since you left Mystic Falls?"

"I live in New Orleans," was his careful reply.

"With Klaus and Rebekah?"

"Yes."

"Do you like it there?" _Will you make me go?_

"It has its virtues." He sat with his back against the bathtub, still reached out to touch her. He must’ve misread the goose bumps covering her arms, because his next question was: "This cold, you feel, is it persistent?"

"I get hot and cold flashes," she shrugged, and dislodged his hand, but only for a mere second before he put it back on her shoulder.

"Would you like to live somewhere warmer?" he wondered. "I have properties near a beach."

"Properties?" she repeated, and arched an eyebrow.

"I have to make legitimate money someway," he said, looking innocent. "Rentals are the easiest."

"As long as it isn't near Klaus," she said, half joking, and then jerked up onto her knees to throw up once more.

* * *

She was grateful there was a provided toothpaste (because that was just another thing her idiot baby brain had forgotten) – but she was not exactly excited about some natural yellow tinged goop. It was not great. It nearly triggered another spewing episode, which was not ideal when the paste was in such a tiny container.

In the mirror's reflection, she saw him on his phone again, tapping the screen like it was his solemn and sworn duty. She rinsed and spat, picked up her water, and went to her duffle, mindful that he was at all times turning to keep her in his immediate field of vision.

There was no polite way to ask where he was sleeping, so she just asked him, unrolling her leggings and long sleeved shirt from the bag.

"I will be on the couch," he said evenly.

"You don't have to be." _I'd prefer you with me._

"It's not a problem," he said. He casually undid the top button on his shirt, loosening his tie, and shrugged out of the suit jacket to lay it neatly over the back of the couch. She wished he wouldn't derobe and look at her. It _did things_. "I value your comfort."

"Yeah, but..." she searched for an excuse, pulling out her fleece lined hoodie, looking back down at the bag. “It's a big bed."

He smiled. While he was unwinding his silky grey tie from his throat. He didn't know what that looked like, with the tiny flash of teeth and the crinkles framing his eyes, the way his collar was open just enough for her to see the line of his throat. She wanted to taste it, just a quick little kiss, he might not even notice...

"In my time I've had much worse to rest my weary head than an expensive couch in a luxury resort," he said kindly, winding up his sleeves. "Don't bother yourself on my account."

She was bothered, of course, by the look of the tie as it ran over his palm, the way he reached up and unhitched another button from his shirt before he started in on the buttons at his waistcoat. Oh yeah, hormones! Lovely little gremlins they were.

 _I'm already knocked up_ , she scolded herself. _Stop trying to make me more knocked up!_

"Sure," she dismissed easily, and made herself look down at the clothes in her hands.

What she wanted to say was _get in the damn bed before I drag you in there_ , but she kind of guessed it wouldn't have played out the way she wanted. With shirt ripping and nakedness. Viking Elijah had been a gentleman to his very bones, but he had an enjoyable rough streak.

Particularly against trees.

She ducked behind the partition to change, and when she came out realised that he'd at some point procured a charger with a tag on it baring the name of the resort. He didn't have a charger. He hadn't meant to be with her that long. He thought he would've been done hours ago, probably, and whatever his plans had been, they were now full of baby.

The leggings fit because they were stretchy, going to the middle of a protruding stomach. She pulled on her shirt and kept dressing as she approached him, already laid out on the couch, shoes off.

She found him a blanket and brought it over.

"You don't have to do that," he said quietly.

"It's freezing."

"It's not that cold."

"Just because you've been colder, doesn't make this moment any less cold," she scolded, and tucked the ends in around his feet. He watched her, and she felt her face burn with embarrassment. What the hell was she doing? "I-... It's cold, okay? I already kicked you out of the bed. Don't argue."

He held up his hands in surrender as she unfolded the blanket up his legs and left it sitting on his middle, putting hands to her hips.

"It's good to see," he mused. "Your empathy. How it shines out of you."

"Yeah, well." It wasn't empathy. She just wanted the excuse to be near him, but she also wasn't going to leave him freezing on a couch while she got all the many inches of a king size bed to herself, was she? "What are you missing out on?"

"Pardon?"

"You didn't know we'd stay. You didn't even know what the problem was. So you would've been back with Klaus tonight, and if I remember correctly, you two were always busy with something. So." She sat on the coffee table, cocking her brows. "When will he come to kick in the door?"

His amusement fell.

"He won't. My brother is a big boy now, he can handle his own affairs while I tend to mine."

"For how long before he becomes suspicious? Uses a witch to find you? Shows up unannounced and ready to fight?" She honed in on him, firming her resolve. What, he didn't think she would think that far ahead? "What is the plan here, Elijah?"

"Things with my brother have changed," he explained quietly. "He isn't entirely the man you knew him as."

No, she'd also known him as a good brother, who loved Henrik, and adored Rebekah, who admired his brother Elijah with nearly all the stars in his eyes. But she also knew him as ruthless, and furious, and insane, and only one of those people was current.

"What does he think you're doing?" was her next question.

"Having a tryst with an old lover," he replied immediately. "Missed calls will stand to reason for perhaps a few days."

She'd known that lust, that deep hunger in him, the passion, the _will_ to make it go on and on and on. If there had been nothing else to do, Elijah would've spent every second of it with her - not _in_ her, because he was a no good dirty rotten tease and he loved to make her beg --

She shot up, and walked around the couch. Bad Elena. Bad Elena!

"Elena," he sat up, followed her with his gaze. "I will do nothing to jeopardize our situation. Please know that."

"You won't," she agreed, and yanked back the heavy covers of the bed, climbing up into it because it was so high off the ground she needed a little jump to get on it.

"You think the worst of my brother," he said cordially. "I don't blame you. But I hope you don't think the worst of me?"

She flopped down, laying on her back, still not sure if she should sleep on her side with all the weight in her middle. Would something shift within her? Would it flip the baby? What if she rolled in the night and squished it?

"You're the only one I trust, right now," she muttered, punching up her pillow even though it was already adequately plump. "Could you get the lights?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews feed the beast


	4. The Name Game

"Elena?"

Not the devil himself was getting her outta bed, no sir, not today. She should've made him agree on a reasonable hour to wake up, before she went to sleep.

The pillow between her knees was just supportive enough to take the stress off of her hips, which made her back feel at least half as normal as it once was. There was another pillow under her arm, woven under her belly, and she wasn't gonna let it go. The third pillow bracketed her back, trapping warmth against her, like she had wanted Elijah to do for her.

"Do you want breakfast?"

She eloquently grunted at him, and pulled the covers over her head, wriggling down under the feathery blankets.

"Elena, we have an appointment to keep. Shall I carry you to the car?"

She made a noise at him, flustered at the suggestion which she heard as a threat. At no point did her eyes open, because she was tired, damn it, and the bed was just so perfect. Her lazy head reared slightly and she scowled as one eye opened to find him taking a seat at her back, head tilted at her.

"Have you been sleeping at all?"

She shook her head, put it back down, and shut her eyes.

"Five minutes," she muttered.

"I'll give you three," he said quietly, and didn't get off the bed.

"Stop staring," she grumbled.

"I'm waiting."

And Elena went back to sleep, exactly as she was, without a care in the world. She felt him leave as she dozed, vaguely aware that he was talking to someone who didn't sound like Klaus so he wasn't important. After she had completely slipped, she heard his shoes across the wooden floor, and hunkered into the bed.

"What are you doing?" he might've sighed, but she was too busy trying to put the covers over her head and heard nothing but shifting linen and feathers. There was a moment of quiet, then the press of weight against the mattress. Not full weight, just an arm or something. When he spoke next, it was close to her cocoon. "The car is warming up. It's right outside the door. Look from here."

She didn't want to, but something in his calm suggestion made her drag the covers off her head and squint both eyes to see the car just outside the resort door, illuminated only by the headlights. It was still dark out.

"Why?" she mumbled, flicking her eyes at him. "Is it so early?"

"We've a distance to drive." He paused. "I can carry you, if you need me to."

She sat up slowly, feeling her groggy head loll. He sat back, on his heels by the bedside, hands braced on the mattress. She shut her eyes. Her head was spinning. Her stomach was churning, the intense smell of incense making her want to gag. But she managed to open her eyes, and smooth out most of the pout she knew she was giving him.

"I'm taking the blankets," she informed him grumpily, and pulled them out of the neat folds at the end of the bed with her. The pillow trapped between her legs fell out of her nest, but the one that was in her arms got crushed in her pit.

She got in the backseat, tossing the pillow in, the biting cold of the air seeping in through her protective layer and attacking her bare feet. She buckled up and laid down on her back, never minding the buckle digging into her hip.

Elijah got in the car and started to drive.

"Did you get my phone?" she mumbled.

"Yes. Your shoes and bag too." He took a long pause. "You didn't pack very much."

"Nothing fits," she said, and settled in the seat. She wanted desperately to be on her side, but still wasn't sure if she could, despite having woken up that way. She didn't risk it. She wouldn't have been able to sleep much if she thought there was a chance she could hurt her baby.

* * *

The drive might've been smooth, but the sun that rose in her eyes was cruel. It took an impressive amount of effort to cover her face with her arm, and by the time she realized what had woken her, she had become Awake.

Elena sat, feeling the blossoming bruise in her hip where the seat belt had been digging in relentlessly. She rubbed her eyes, and leaned forward, resting her head on the passenger's seat.

"Good morning," Elijah said mildly.

"Good morning," she blinked, and realized that out of the window was a rather populated city, and not in the far-out health retreat she had gone to sleep in. "Where are we?"

"Alabama." He indicated he was turning and did so, eyes flicking at the side mirror before over at her. "Did you rest well?"

"I kind of remember trying to hide in the blanket fort," she teased softly. "So I guess I must've."

"You do look better."

"I haven't been sleeping much. I'm not sure if it's me or the little one."

His mouth smiled, though she was sure she wasn't supposed to see.

"We will ask the doctor."

"Ah," she said softly, winding her arms around the seat. She'd never been to Alabama, and wasn’t sure why they were there or how long it had taken. She kept her eyes out the window to inspect the unfamiliar terrain. "How long did it take you to find someone?"

"A few hours. I had to organize the house."

"We're staying here?"

"I thought a local best in the event of any emergencies. The clinic has 24 hour onsite nursing staff, several maternity classes for young and expecting mothers, not to mention birth facilities that cater to more than one -... style."

"Style?" she repeated.

"Options," he said placidly. "I don't know enough to recommend how best to have a baby."

"Yeah," she said, sitting back in the seat. "Me either."

She shoved the blankets away, realized that she was sweating, and unzipped her jacket to peel off a layer and shove the sleeves of her shirt up. If she wasn't freezing, she was burning. The state of comfort was almost so foreign to her now, she wondered if she'd ever just been at a nice temperature.

Elijah noticed, but said nothing, indicating before turning into a parking lot behind a squarish, cream building. There weren't many cars in the lot, but then again, the time was early am.

"Shoes?" she asked, as he parked.

"Here." He passed back her duffle, and got out of the car.

She unzipped to find her photos all carefully moved to the side; her shoes tucked at the bottom to keep the dirt out of the rest of the clothes. She burned with embarrassment while she dug them out, realizing that not only had he seen how little she'd thought to take, he'd also put the photo of her and Stefan on the top of the pile.

They looked so happy. She was kissing his face while he smiled wide and bright for the camera, their hands linked on his chest. They had been at school when Elena had pulled out his phone from his pocket and playfully demanded that he use the superior camera to 'photograph me, my good sir'.

School.

God, the baby was going to need to go to school eventually - have friends and enemies and fall and get hurt. Would Elena still be there? Would they grow into her good friend? Or would they rebel and hate her under uncle Klaus' influence?

Because Elijah wouldn't ever steal the baby away, would he?

No.

_No._

She pulled on her socks a little roughly.

He wasn't cruel, not really. She'd known who he was a thousand years ago, and seen the man of honor he'd been when his family was threatened. He didn't have to deal with her being a brat and ruining all his plans, he didn't have to make pretty deals to keep her people safe, but he had.

 _But maybe_ , whispered Bonnie's thoughtful voice, _maybe he did that because you reminded him of the version of Tatia that you were..._

She stepped into her shoes and zipped up her bag before bundling the covers aside and opening the door.

If he noticed anything about her expression, he said nothing, taking the door handle and allowing her to climb out before shutting it behind him.

"Did you sleep at all?" she mumbled, reaching up to fix her hair into a less tragic state.

"There's no rest for the wicked," he mused, quirking the side of his mouth. "Nor expecting fathers, as it turns out. There was much to be done, and had I not I wouldn't have slept regardless."

They walked into the clinic side by side, and honestly, it was the most supported she'd been in months.

The receptionist gave Elijah a bright smile, then flicked her eyes at Elena, and leaned over to her coworker. Now Elena may not have had inhuman hearing, but she knew someone who did, and whatever had been said was enough to make Elijah to firm his lips into a bloodless line and narrow his eyes.

"What?" she whispered, almost dreading to approach.

"I'd prefer not to repeat such vulgarities, Elena. I'd much rather rectify them."

_Oh no, he's going murder mode._

Elena's eyes darted around the room, clocking two other heavily pregnant ladies and one sitting with a small bump like hers, an infant staring at Elijah's glare with a pacifier half hanging out of his mouth.

"Hey, hey," she said, and grabbed his hand in both of hers, prepared to dig her heels in to get him to slow his stride. He heeded just the small touch, looking at her linked fingers around his hand and lifted his face to hers, still dark eyed and broody. Delicious. _Shut up, hormones_. "Are you gonna be violent?"

"I'm rather considering it, yes."

"There are three other pregnant ladies in here, Elijah," she moved closer to him to counter her lowered voice, squeezed his palm. "And a kid."

The receptionist was still talking, and although her coworker looked disinterested and frowny, the younger didn't bother to care. She was looking at Elena's leggings/shirt/sneakers and gross hair combination, and then over to Elijah's much less ruffled suit/tie/cufflinks version of a casual Wednesday.

Between her hands was his wrist, and she felt the flex of every tendon and muscle as his hand curled into a fist.

"Whatever it is she said, I need you to not care," Elena went on. "It isn't worth freaking out a bunch of mothers, and the little guy, okay?"

He frowned only fractionally.

"Perhaps I will compel her," he murmured thoughtfully. "To be kinder."

"Well, sure. That's-... Yeah, do that." She let go of his arm. How could compelling her to be kinder possibly be detrimental? Oh, boy, he still hadn't lifted the murder stare off the receptionist, who looked a little like she guessed he might've overheard. "You okay?"

He didn't answer verbally, just gave her the touch of a smile and opened his palm to the desk, indicating she should walk first. She did after unwinding her hands from his wrist, almost surprised that instead of tailing her, he kept to her side. His hand was so close to the small of her back she could feel the heat of him, but he never crossed the gap to touch her.

"Hi there, guys," said the younger, tagged as 'Whitney'. "How can I help?"

"We have an appointment for eight. Mrs. Walker," Elijah said smoothly. "Her first scan."

"With Dr. Malks?" She was reddening under the vampire's unblinking stare.

"That would be correct," he said dryly.

"Sure thing. Here's your urine jar – bathroom is over there-" She indicated with her head. "Go on when you're ready. Take a seat and she'll be right out."

"Oh and-" he looked at her tag. "Whitney?"

"Yes, Mr. Walker?"

He leaned forward only slightly, dropping his voice into a tenor that shook Elena's bones. It was nothing of _her Elijah_ , rather only of the vampire. He'd never had a dangerous voice, because he'd never needed it to be intimidating as he did now. When she'd known him, he'd been a tower of too-calm patience, which was usually enough to get his enemies to back down.

Unless it was his father.

"It is an ugly behavior, being shallow and nasty," he drawled. "That is why you're single."

"Oh, yeah," she nodded dumbly. "I'm single because I have ugly behavior."

"You're going to speak more kindly on the women that enter this building," he said, and narrowed his eyes. "You're going to _be_ more kind to every woman. You are better than that."

"I am," she said softly.

"Do not let me hear you speak again unless it involves information pertinent to me and my partner," he said, and pressed only the feather lightest of touches to Elena's shoulder to steer her to a seat.

Elena looked across to him.

"So..." she raised her eyebrows. "Are you going to explain that?"

"I'd rather not."

"I'm not gonna stop thinking about it."

"It doesn't matter." He pursed his lips. "You were right."

"Ah." She leaned into his side to nudge his shoulder with hers. "That's what I like to hear."

He gave her the smallest flash of a smile.

"Rory. Rory, buddy, come on back," a mother said, reaching out a hand, flexing her fingers at the toddler who was rather jovially coming at them in a bouncy run. The little boy gave his mother precisely no attention and toddled over to put his hand on Elijah's knee, staring up at him in wonder.

Elena understood. Elijah had that effect on people.

"Hi there," she said warmly, capturing the baby's attention. His blond lashes were straight out but so long they touched his cheeks. He was white blond, with a Clark Kent curl right in the middle of his forehead, in a red and white striped suit. "Hi, Rory."

The toddler made noises at her, and did a little jig and squat before standing back up straight and scrunching Elijah's pant leg in a tiny fist, blinking hugely.

"Sorry," his mother said, putting her handbag beside her as though she meant to stand.

"Don't worry yourself," Elijah said patiently, holding out a hand to her. "I'll have to learn."

"First one?"

"Yes." He reached out and carefully touched the back of the baby's hand, making the child jig, his round face growing rounder with a big smile. He smiled down at the boy. "Hello, Rory."

The toddler made noises and chewed his pacifier right out of his mouth, but Elijah's hand whipped out to catch it before it hit the floor.

The toddler took a wobbly step back, staring at the sucker, before slowly reaching out with both hands. One landed on the slobbery end, the other, around Elijah's thumb. He brought his whole head to the pacifier, getting up on clumsy tip toes to do it, half chewing on his own hand.

Elena couldn't help but grin.

"Well," his mother said, rolling her eyes. "Here's a heads up. Don't let 'em learn how to walk."

"It's all downhill from there," agreed the lady across from them, fanning herself with a magazine. "I've got a three year old who's just figured out mommy bargains with candy when he climbs somewhere too high."

The lady next to her giggled into her phone, lifting her attention to the conversation, though she added nothing, just rubbed her stomach and listened in.

Elena smiled at the toddler, still holding onto Elijah's thumb while he figured out that no, he couldn't fit both the pacifier and his own hand into his mouth. His little stripey foot stomped and he made a grumpy noise.

"Rory, if I have to come get you," warned his mother. "Be nice to the man. You'll scare him off parenting."

"Unlikely," mused Elijah.

Elena couldn't help but melt. Her brain was saying: _'hey, listen, not everything is blamed on hormones!_ ' but her mind was saying: ' _he is a papa bear, though, and it suits him_.'

"He's so blond," she said in wonder.

"Yeah, so's his daddy," explained the mother. "His eyes are a throwback, though. My grandmother had blue eyes, and grandpa on daddy's side has blue eyes, but the rest are brown."

"The odds on that are not high," Elijah said in wonder. "Genetically."

"Yeah," agreed his mother, looking fondly at her son, who mastered the pacifier and got it in his gob. "There you go. Rory, you gon' come back here?"

Rory, perhaps thinking that he wasn't very inclined to do so, looked at his mother for a second to ascertain that he had in fact heard her, then lifted his chubby arm up to Elijah, blue blue eyes trained on his face.

Elena leaned onto his shoulder, beaming at the little boy, almost wanting to thank him. There was a tension in Elijah's body that wasn't nervous, or angry, or stressed; but joyful.

"May I?" he looked to the mother.

"Go ahead," she mused. "He's not running around means I'm not."

Elijah very carefully, though not at all timidly, put hands around the boy's chest and lifted him at the toddler's request. He was sat on Elijah's thigh, staring at the vampire, the dummy moving in his mouth as he thought.

The whole waiting room watched him reach out and touch Elijah's face with his still wet saliva hand, the tiny grab he made on Elijah's chin. Then he made noises as though he was talking, and reached out to the tie, pulling on it a fraction.

Elena was absorbing, still leaning on Elijah's arm, just happy to be there and bear witness to something so cute.

But Rory shifted his gaze to her, and cracked into a gummy smile, taking his slobbery hand and reaching for her instead.

"Hair," the mother decided.

There was a long strand that she'd missed trailing over her shoulder, and as Elijah shifted the boy to his next thigh to bring him closer, Elena leaned a fraction more forward to pop her chin on his bicep. The baby didn't grab her hair, although he did touch her chin, very gently, blinking at her with ridiculous blonde lashes.

"Mrs. Walker?" said the receptionist. The older one, the one Elijah hadn't gone total murder death kill on.

"That's you," Elijah said warmly.

"Oh." Elena blinked, lifting her face from Elijah's arm. "Yes?"

"You're nearly due for your appointment, and we need your urine sample before you go in, please."

Elena looked down at the empty cup in her hands, then back at the baby. She knew what she'd rather be doing, personally, was hanging out with her ancient baby daddy and the little blonde cutie - but that was only because she was very convinced the doctors were going to tell her something she wasn't going to like to hear.

She had been pregnant for longer than she'd stopped drinking, first of all.

"Oh, right, sure." She got up, smiling down at the little boy. "Bye Rory."

"Wave to the nice lady, Rory," his mother said. "Say bye!"

The toddler made a noise that could've been 'bye!' or 'bah!' or 'bey!' Either one of those options was very cute, though, as he lifted his arm with purpose.

Elijah bopped him up onto his chest like he'd made a business out of holding little children, and Elena didn't hate that she needed to go pee in a cup, because there were tears happening all of a sudden, and it gave her an excuse to hide them.

* * *

Elena could still hear the heart beats when they were sitting in the car, her hands pressed to her stomach. Tiny, precious heart beats.

"Can you hear it?" she whispered. "Hear the heart?"

"When I listen for it," he soothed, and she turned her face to the window to shed a few inconspicuous tears. "It's so quiet beneath your own."

"I wish I could," she confessed. She sniffed, hoped it passed off as being casual, and counted to ten before she wiped her arm over her face.

"Are you alright?" he murmured.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she told the window, and flicked her eyes down to the wing mirror, making sure he wasn't watching her sneakily. All she saw was the road moving beneath the car, and shut her eyes, feeling her mind whorl into a vertigo. "Oomph. Spoke too soon. I'm getting dizzy."

"Should I pull over?"

"No, no, it'll pass." She rested her head against the window and sighed, shutting her eyes to the movement. "How long until we get to... wherever we're going?"

"Google says twelve minutes," he said helpfully, and she wasn't sure why that was funny, but it was.

The whole appointment was a mess of excitement and worry and love and fear and every other emotion that would make a normal person's head explode. But it was kind of her norm, so honestly a handful of tears was pretty standard.

She played it on a loop in her head. Nothing was wrong with her pregnancy. Dr. Malks had answered every question that Elena had asked, no matter how stupid she had felt to ask them - 'healthy', 'perfect', 'yes you can sleep on your side'. Then there was the forever moment when she first heard the baby's heart, and saw the perfect outline of a profile. A real baby. Her baby. Alive, healthy, and proof that it was there.

The second she'd seen her actual baby in the black and white mess of the ultrasound, her hand had flung out to catch Elijah's - clammy with sweat, but no less firm. He had to take a seat when he saw the baby, his eyes fixed on the screen.

The one thing Elena wasn't ready for was: "Do we want to know the sex of the bean, parents?"

"What?" Elena sat up a little, propped on her elbows.

"Yeah, we can do that pretty confidently right now. Should I tell you, or did you want a surprise?"

"Uh!" Elena's blinked. "I hadn't - I haven't even thought about it!"

"No?" the doctor was amused, her pretty smile dialing up to a solid nine. She took a sticky note with her free hand - the other was still getting a good look in at the baby - and wrote something down, before folding it up and passing it to Elena. "You can look or not look. Have a think about it."

Elena was so worried that she was going to lose the paper, or Elijah would see it, or he'd guess from her expression, or something. She couldn't help but hold it flat in between her hands and then quickly tuck it into her sport bra. If it got sweated through, that would be the universe's way of telling her to have a surprise.

But now, in the car, with the near silent engine and the feel of it sitting crisp and ready in her bra, she buzzed to know.

"Have you thought of names?" she asked him, glancing over.

"Relentlessly."

"What are some of your favorites?"

"I don't presume to choose a name..." he said slowly.

"Well we're kind of a team, here. So let's agree on a few." She beamed at the side of his head. "What have you got?"

His smile was slow. He turned to her to show the full extent of it for a minute, then back to the road. He was still smiling.

"Lilah," he said finally. "Has always struck me a pretty name for a girl."

"Do we want her to have a pretty name? What if she's not ladylike?" Elena rubbed her fingertips together. "What if she's tough and likes climbing things?"

"I don't see a reason she can't have a lovely name and have a fierce character," he said lightly, and turned a much wickeder grin to her. "You do."

"I am not," she said, smiling, and started to bop her leg. "I have one for a girl, too."

"Tell me."

"Don't laugh. Evangeline."

"I wouldn't laugh at that. I quite like that name."

"She can kind of take it," Elena said, shifting in the seat. "And make it whatever she likes. She can be a Evie. Angie. Angel. Eva."

"Ah," he dragged out the noise. "That is versatile."

"I like Grace," Elena said. "Maybe something more classic like... Marylin. Oh wait, no - Marylin Mikealson. No. No we're not doing that."

"Mikealson?" He raised his brows. "We're continuing my name?"

"Well, yeah," she said slowly. "It's better than Gilbert. Can you imagine a Grace Gilbert? Or a Hope Gilbert?"

"Hope," he repeated softly. "Is not a name we can use."

"Yeah, we can't use Bethany or Jean, either." Elena scrunched her nose. "We don't like Bethanys."

"Gilbert is a fine name," he said. "There isn't a thing wrong with Audrey Gilbert, for example. Lilah Gilbert suits all the same. Ava Gilbert, Marie Gilbert-"

"I'm sensing a theme," she accused playfully. "Do you want a girl?"

He considered.

"I can't think of many boy names that I don't associate with men I have hated, traded, killed or hunted. What of boys for you?" he prodded.

"Something old world, but not as old as your world," she cracked a smile. "No Williams. No Henrys. No Stevens."

"Have we a vendetta against British kings?"

"Too common. No Johns. No Jacks."

He thought for a while, and she could see the wheels turning in his head.

"No Damons," he said. "No Stefans."

"No Niks of any kind." She thought she quite liked the name Finn, but would never, ever say it out loud.

"I've always had a fondness for the name Leonidas."

"Leonidas Mikealson is a strong contender," Elena agreed. "Leo is good. I like Theo, too, for a Theodore, or Toby, for a Tobias, or even Dan for a Daniel."

"Tobias Mikealson is my favorite so far. I thought of Danielle for a girl, seeing as you liked your versatility. Dani is a fun nickname, without any connotations for what her character may be," he mulled it over.

"What the character might be..." she said thoughtfully. "Oh my god. What do you think they'll be like? Do you think they'll take after you or me the most? I hope we do it right. What if we don't raise them right?" she wondered, blinking over at him.

"We will," he said simply, like it didn't devastate her to hear him say something so kind. What a dick. Didn't he know nice things like that would make her cry? As if to prove that he didn't, in fact, know he was going to make her bawl her eyes out, he went on. "My hope is that they'll have your wonderful optimism for this world and the people in it."

"My optimism has nothing on your patience," she traded, looking up at the sky through the window, hands on her belly. "And that has nothing on your honor."

"If they had a fraction of your kindness and fortitude," he mused, turning his indicator on to make a turn into a street. "Then I will feel all the more blessed."

She smiled at him, warmth building in her chest. Sweet Christ, she loved him.

"I would love if they picked up your vernacular," she admitted.

"If we have a girl," he said softly. "I would love her to have your long hair."

"Well, when they’re born," she replied in kind, tilting her head at him. "I want them to have your cheekbones."

He chuckled, and they both fell into quiet, thinking their own thoughts, dreaming their own dreams, about a child they would one day get to know and share.

* * *

Elena sat on the bed and stared at her hands, cupped protectively around the slip of paper. Would she be able to keep it a secret? Would she want to?

She unveiled her child with the name falling into place like a perfect puzzle piece, and immediately burst into tears, trying to stifle them in her hands.

Elijah was immediately outside the bedroom door, calling her name.

She snatched up the paper and held it to her chest, breathless with tears and laughter, and ran to the door to yank it open, near giddy to tell him. She didn't know how to say it. Tears poured from her eyes but did nothing to blur his kind smile. Her Elijah. _There_ he was.

"You're pleased?"

She nodded, didn't trust her quivering throat with words.

He tucked his hand into his pocket and very calmly leaned against the door frame.

"Though it doesn't matter to me what our baby is born if they are healthy and whole," he said softly. "I'd like to know, if you'll tell me."

"I picked a name," she said, and wiped her face. "That goes with Mikealson. Guess."

His lip curled slowly, that spread wide into a full grin that checked every one of his teeth and made crinkles around his glittering eyes. Although his lean was very casual, she could see him practically vibrating with energy, toe tapping against the floor.

"Daniel."

"No."

"Evangeline."

"No."

He licked his lips.

"Marie."

"No."

"Leonidas?"

"Nope."

His smile was widening still.

"Elena, I'm a very old man, and my heart may not function as per usual if I'm kept waiting in anxiety."

"You can’t have a heart attack, don’t be dramatic. Keep going," she urged.

He took in a deep breath.

"No Henrys, you said?"

"No Henrys."

At his pause, she reached out and grabbed his hand, pulled it to her stomach, and pressed down on it. She stared up into his face - tears still bleeding from the corners of her eyes - and quivered to tell him.

"Feel the baby, Elijah," she said. "What do they feel like to you?"

"Grace?" he guessed.

“No.”

"I'm going to have a heart attack, Elena-"

"What do they _feel_ like?" she said again, so softly.

He lifted a hand to her face, tracing the tracks of her tears with his knuckle. He studied her expression and tilted his head, then stroked the top of her belly.

"Far be it from me to assume I should know," he said, mock lightly. "But if I've learned anything in my many, many years, I'm best not to argue with a mother over her child. You've picked a name, so I will just-"

She put his tie in her hand and gave it the mildest of tugs, and it made his mouth shut so quickly she heard his teeth click. She wrapped the tie around her palm, thumb rubbing at the satin, before she looked down at his hand and pressed it upward, dragging her shirt, but nestling under the swell of her breast, right next to her heart and the baby.

She wet her lips and looked up, seeing his dark eyes boring into the top of her skull.

His throat flexed around his unconscious swallow, and he took the fingertips that had been resting on her chin to surreptitiously put it down into his pocket. The hand on her stomach though, that remained.

"What," she whispered. "Does that _heart_ feel like, to you?"

He shut his eyes.

"Toby," he said finally, slowly.

"Yeah," she said, and beamed. "I thought so too."

His eyes flooded. He took the hand from his pocket and wiped them roughly, but did nothing to hide from her.

"Tobias?" he repeated.

"Yes."

"A son?"

“Yes,” she exhaled on a wobbly breath.

He dropped to his knees and pressed his mouth to her belly, framing it with his hands.

"A son," he murmured. "My son. Our little boy."

He spiraled into another tongue, his first one, actually. The candor of his voice was everything warm and promising in the world, all flowing from his lips in line after lines of poetic rhythm. His brow pressed ever so slightly against her belly and he spoke, as though worshiping on his knees, thumbs tracing the firmness on her stomach.

Elena's hands drifted to his hair, threading through the neatly manicured strands. When he’d been on his knees in front of her previously, she had done much the same, if his hands were busy then her hands would be busy too.

Except that once or twice or too many bloody times when he'd tied her up.

The flat of her nails were dragging against his scalp before catching on the reverse, holding him closer. His hair was always thick and clean, and had been for an age; but shorter, it felt different. Not unpleasant. Just not a fistful, anymore.

Two dark eyes were peering up at her. She didn't startle, though she immediately let go, lost in memories of his searing mouth and insistent, tricky tongue.

That was where her mind took her, while he was on his knees once more, worshiping her body again, though for an entirely different reason. No less pure, no less in wonder, but significantly _less_ in nature.

He didn't love her like he loved Tatia. Like he was growing to love their baby.

She didn't want to step back and ruin the time with his offspring but she needn't have worried; he pressed a simple, sweet kiss to her belly and rose into standing.

"I should've asked," he said softly.

"To celebrate a miracle?" she raised her brows at him.

"A miracle?" His mouth twisted as though he wasn't sure is he should smile. "That a witch sent you into time and you unwillingly caught a movement where I was within a distant relation of yours?"

She swallowed. She wasn't sure if he was distracted enough for her to lie and him to buy it. Not like he had been when she'd dropped the bombshell of being pregnant, but then of course - that was the point.

"I think he's a miracle," she said, instead of explaining. That, at least, was the truth. "And you need to stop saying that I wasn't willing, because it wasn't like that."

He studied her face, eyes trailing over her features. Undoubtedly, he was trying to find her lie. She would need to be very, very careful to ensure that he didn't find out the length of her stay, and how willing she often was for him.

"Why were you sent back?" he pondered. "What did Bonnie want you to see?"

Elena wasn't expecting it given the change of pace, and hadn't really thought through the cover up. What she should've done was told him that the spell was an accident to begin with - that some mystical energy did it on the whim of some old moon, or something. Lies on top of lies, right? What was the point if he guessed what had occurred?

"There was some kind of amulet or coin or something," she shrugged. "Bonnie said it wasn't important."

"She sent you in time a thousand years to observe something that wasn't important?"

"Well, she thought it was. It turned out not to be." Thankfully, her stomach growled, making her glance down and cover it with both hands. "Whoops. Sorry."

"What can I have brought for you?" he said promptly. "I have a man out for groceries, but he'll be a while yet."

She considered.

"A chicken burger," she said. "No onions, no beetroot. Please."

"Of course."

"I might sleep," she added, backing into the room he'd declared was hers. "I-... Feel like I need more sleep."

And really, he wasn't ever going to be the one to tell her no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews feed the author


	5. Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheer fluffy filler. Movie that does not exist for the explicit purpose of stoking the pining fire.

Elena wasn't allowed to make a noise, because everyone else was still awake. It was black as pitch, the sounds of the night echoing through the forest, her heart absolutely pounding in her chest - pressed slick against his, echoing in his own distinct drum beat.

Elijah's hands were in claws, and he was dripping sweat despite the temperature outside, pressing his head onto her collarbone and hanging on like she'd float away. His lengthy hair was completely wet on the ends, and piping hot at the roots, where she buried her fingers.

She ground down and took a big breath as her slippery sex nudged just the right way on his pelvis, clamping her thighs against his waist, pressing her panting mouth to his brow, his cheek, his ear, and down his throat, trying to breathe through the urge to scream. She nibbled, tugged his lobe with her teeth.

"You're so hard within me," she whispered. "I can feel you all the way inside."

He made a noise as if to hush her.

"So deep," she crushed her breasts to him and licked her lips, rocking surely, swiveling her hips on the way down. "You don't know the pleasure, when you're so _hard_ , Elijah."

He moved within her, rolling his body, putting a hand behind him, down on her furs to get leverage enough to have force, his tongue caught between his teeth as he concentrated on pistoning.

She whimpered, and he slowed down, all the way down, cupping her face.

"Tatia, be _quiet_ , my love-"

"Let it go. Let me have it," she urged, bearing down on him as he came up. He grunted, bowed his head to her shoulder and let her hug his skull, breathe hot into his ear. "I want it. Finish."

"The mess-"

"Damn the mess." She pulled his head up so she was heaving in the air he breathed out, his eyes desperate, barely in control. "I'll take it. I want it. I want your seed in me, when you go back to your home."

He choked.

She felt the surge of heat between them flare, that fire, when she drew his control hair thin and then kept dragging it out until it snapped. It gave her a bizarre rush of giddiness and she started to bob against him, despite his sweating hands trying to hold her still by the hips and slipping against her insistent bucking. The wet splat of their combined bodies was _obscene_ and she _loved it_.

"I'll play in it, bring it up to taste," she promised, barely words, more than a wind on his ear. "Elijah, it's so good, please, please, give it to me. I need you to - to make a mess, inside, please, Elijah, give it to me, so I can taste you when you go..."

"I don't want to stop," he blurted, hushed, into her throat.

"We have to stop eventually," she purred, and swayed her body out of his trembling grip like a snake, and rolled her hips, taking him in fast, faster and louder, gasping at the short knock of him against something up in her - _cervix_ , she thought, wild with the thought, and suddenly told him: "That's it, _that's it_ , that's my _womb_ -"

He choked and swore, grabbed her ass more desperately and sucked in a breath, digging in his heels to jerk up into her.

She felt him twitch, and rocked a little more quickly in reply to savor his orgasm. Even the wetness pooled between them was loud, too loud, but she wouldn't stop when he was being so good and pleased and quiet.

He let go of a breath, a whole lungful, and it chilled across her nipples and made her sigh, her hair stuck to the sweat on her back, pinned by his arms. She leaned over and kissed his mouth, breathing in the hot taste of him while he came down from the high.

He bent his head to take a nipple in his mouth, and she tugged on his hair, though that only made him suck a little harder.

"Elijah," she warned, keeping her volume all the way down. His father was mere meters away outside, still talking quietly with Tatia's father, and Rebekah was barely an arm length, snoring softly. "I'm too sensitive."

"You must finish," he said softly, steering her head down with the strands he had taken in his own hands, so he could speak into her ear. He traced her pounding pulse with the tip of his tongue. "I insist."

"I don't need to." She tried to climb off him, flexing her muscles inward, grabbing him tightly on the way up to avoid much of a spill.

"I want it," he murmured, dragging his hand through her tangled mane and grabbed a fistful. He was quick to lean her back until she fell into the cradle of his arms, his hair long and casting shadows across his face. Although softening, he wasn't yet all the way done, and a pump of his hips gave her reason enough to clamp a hand over her own mouth. "Give it over to me."

She wanted to protest. But his soft eyes and determined mouth told her she couldn't stop him.

"I _can't_ stay quiet," she whispered, pushing at his chest. " _'Lijah_."

"You will be quiet, or you won't, it doesn't matter," he promised her, and kissed her mouth, soft and slow, before bowing his head to her breast to take a nipple back into his mouth. He pumped his hips shortly, staying sheathed, knocking into her dripping sex. "You must finish."

She mewled, and he came back up to try and smother it with an extremely toothy kiss. She shoved at his chest again but he caught her hands and linked their fingers, grinding into her so close that her ass was seated in his thighs.

"I demand you enjoy me," he said low, in her ear. "So you know that I - am not using you - to deposit myself and then flee."

"I know _that_ -" she tried to push up against his hands and all it did was make him jerk against her harder, put weight on her hips and hands and go _harder_. "'Lijah-"

"You pulled it from me with your pretty words," he teased, and dove in to suck on her neck, at which she did make noise, barely kept between her tightly bitten lips. "I will pull it from you-"

"With your pretty cock?" she shot back, arching her back as though she could lift him, somehow put distance from his torturous thrusting instead of what it actually did, which was hit a new angle that made her world burst into stars.

* * *

She woke up in the grand bed, and found her hand already pressing between her legs, squeezing her knees together.

_Not a sound_ , she heard him breathe into her ear, and she shoved a whole pillow against her mouth to choke out a gasp and a short, desperate shout. Her whole body was alight. She trapped her own hand still rubbing between her legs and rolled hard to the side, bucking. She couldn't stop the wayward jerk of her body any more than she could control the moon's pull on the tide.

Her heart was banging, hand still clamped between her legs - not even beneath the band of her underwear, just mercilessly on top of the material. She let the pillow out of her grip and took a shaky breath.

She waited, swallowing, wetting her lip. It felt hot and bitten on the inside, and she recalled having to bite it in the past to try and alleviate the purity of her pleasure with just a touch of pain. Try not to cry out. Try not to beg, when he had trained her that it was the key to unlock a certain door that he would otherwise bar.

Elijah hadn't been pleased at the blood then, she remembered.

She sat up and tried not to chase that thought with how much more pleased he'd be with it now.

* * *

Elena found it hard to look at him in the present without picturing their quiet love making; the echo of urgency to be together and never be caught. He had been every inch a gentleman. He would love her with abandon, and passion, and he’d be gentle or rough depending on her lead. Unless, of course, she was trying to speed things along and get him out safely before she had time to come, in which case he took it as a personal challenge to wring it out of her.

Her reputation was no more at risk from damage than his, she'd learned, as long as it was kept discreet.

When they'd started, it was only with touches, timid and gentle, with respectful hands.

He only ever gave her what she gave him, which had been interesting when she'd first gotten down on her knees to take him into her mouth.

_No_ , she told herself firmly. _We are not thinking about sucking Elijah off over a chicken burger. That is not what we are about._

_But-_ her hormones said. _You're gonna think about it anyway. Might as well with something good in your mouth!_

After she'd greeted him and thanked him for the burger, she took the bag and made herself retreat to her room. She barely got out of the kitchen when she realized he was in front of her, eyebrow raised.

"You were dreaming," he said patiently. "Your heart was out of control. I wasn't sure if you wanted me there."

_I did._

Shut up Hormones!

"It's not a big deal." She cleared her throat. "Just a dream."

"I can remedy dreams," he offered. "If you let me, I could-"

"No, no, I'm fine," she told the tiles quickly. "I'm good. Thanks. It's not a problem."

But he didn't budge, and neither did she.

"You can't look at me."

She met his stare, forgot his hair was short, thought about how much more fun it had been when she could grab it by the handful. Her eyes went down and immediately undid her hard work to be brave and meet his eyes like there wasn't a panty party happening.

"Whatever dream it was, whatever I did-"

"What makes you think it was about you?"

"You were talking," he reasoned.

An idea popped into her head, and she looked at him from beneath her lashes, both challenging and curious. He didn't look as collected as he might think he did. He looked guilty.

"What did I say?"

His adam's apple flexed.

"My name."

_Bullshit._

She had never just, 'said' his name - the fact that he was playing it off so mildly was insulting. Whispered it, begged it, implored it. She mentioned it as a prayer, a promise, a chant.

She knew that in his eyes, he'd done wrong by her in getting her pregnant, and there was a chance that she thought he would take advantage of her again. But the guilt in him was different today.

A nasty, clever little idea took form. Somewhere in her head, Katherine Pierce was whispering: _that's my girl_.

She firmed her shoulders, forced herself to meet him head on.

"It was a sex dream, Elijah," she challenged, and felt her face flood with heat, filling her cheeks and causing a new hot flush to lay claim to her body. "We were in a tiny room surrounded by fur, and Rebekah was asleep right next to us. I was sitting on top of you."

His mouth popped open. The collected look on his face was replaced by shock, and it satisfied the nasty part of her brain that sounded a lot like Katherine urging her to _go for the kill._

His eyes were darting between hers, trying to read her.

She stepped forward into his space, and he took a single step back, bowing his head to lean over her, though never towering.

"You wouldn't just leave," she said, matter-of-factly. "I felt you come in me and then I was going to let you leave. We had to be quiet, and we had been, but we were so wet between us that we could barely breathe without noise, so I thought we'd be safe. You said you wanted me to finish, and I said I didn't need to, and then you grabbed my hair and laid me out and wouldn't let me get out of me until I gave you my org-"

He took another step back, hand pressing to his mouth. It was his non-verbal equivalent of plugging his ears, so she stopped the threatening tirade until he could put his hand away from his mouth.

"So it wasn't just a dream? It was a memory," she said flatly. " _Your memory._ "

"It is," he breathed. "I didn't know I was sharing it. Forgive me, Elena."

"I will," she promised simply. "But it'd be nice if I wasn't thinking about it while I had to eat my burger. Is that okay with you?"

"Of course." He stood aside. "Believe me, I didn't know I was-"

"Just-" she held up a hand, then settled it on his chest. She felt the bang of his heart beneath her palm and knew that she had escaped his line of questioning by using an extremely underhand tactic. "I believe you. But space would be nice."

"Yes," he agreed. "Whatever you want."

She patted his breastbone - the place she'd love to kiss when it was bare - and returned to her bedroom with her burger.

If he thought that she was mad about having her brain invaded, he might forget the part where she shook with an orgasm at the thought of him.

If he thought he was testing her patience by accidental dream sharing, maybe he wouldn't ask questions about the adoring way his name came out of her throat.

* * *

  
He stood from his desk, buttoning his blazer around him with a polite smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, I'm just... thinking," she said, fiddling with her sleeves. "Are you busy?"

"No."

"You've been typing away in here for hours."

"I'm not too busy for you," he paused, straightened his cuffs. "What can I do?"

She hugged her middle, hunching her shoulders.

"I was being nasty earlier," she admitted. "I didn't have to do that. I can't blame everything on my mood swings, either. So, I just wanted to say sorry."

"Elena, the memory I put upon you," he said quietly. "Given the current climate between us, what has happened; that was unfair. I have many memories with women who share your face. Being physically close to you in any capacity, I... I have no words to excuse myself. Truth be told, I wasn't aware I was thinking it."

But as it couldn't _possibly_ be her memory, he took the blame, and she knew he would.

"I leaned into it," she told the floor. "I - you-... When you touched me. To be near to the baby. I let you. I wanted you to. I-... I haven't let anyone touch me since the funeral."

He paused.

"Your aunt's?"

She nodded, twisting her feet in the carpet.

"People kept trying to touch me, like they knew how much it hurt, like they cared, like it'd help. I forgot that I'm-... you know. Affectionate. And I know I can't blame cravings, or hormones, on wanting to _hug_ , or touch, or, any of that, but..." Her face was flaming red, she knew, and she felt her skin burn, eager to take off the long sleeved shirt off. She shoved the sleeves up and shrugged. "I miss it. So, I'm sorry that I bought that up in your mind because I couldn't keep my hands to myself. You were closer to me to be closer to our baby, and that - that was my fault, that I just, touched you."

She swallowed.

"I know it can't be easy," she admitted. "Being around me, when I look so much like..."

There was a pause.

"You're nothing like Katerina," he murmured. "And if you need anything of me, _anything_ , for your comfort, you need only let me know."

She wanted to protest. She knew it was wrong. To let him think that he'd made her dream such a dream, claim it was solely his memory when it wasn't and she knew it and she was so, so guilty. But she _had_ to change tack, had to throw him off the scent. If he realized it wasn't _his_ dream, it would have to have been _hers_ , and if he knew that he would have to ask himself how long she had spent in his youth.

"I shouldn't have thrown it at you," she went on. "What I saw. That wasn't-... I was-..."

"I embarrassed the both of us," he conceded. "You, for having to witness, me, for having such a lack of control. It won't happen again, I assure you."

She nodded slowly, and decided to not so subtly change the conversation, to steer him into a less melancholy mood.

"I didn't get sick today," she told some of the art on his wall.

"That's good," he acknowledged.

She paced in the room, still hugging herself and her baby - _their son_ \- and studied the artwork, finding it tasteful for an office space and bright, but abstract and with no depth.

"What emails were you sending off?"

"I was looking into experts on childbirth," he admitted, leaning his backside against the desk in her peripheral vision, both hands deep in his pockets. "I wanted to have a little knowledge in my back pocket before we had a conversation about how the delivery would happen. Was there any way you did not agree with?"

"As long as the little one gets out in one piece?" She smiled, looked over to him. "I don't care right now. I just want him to be safe."

"Then I will continue a broad search." He bowed his head to her. There was a pause. "Elena, I do wonder, about the use of drugs or other, to ensure your experience is not..."

"Horrific?" she said dryly, and managed to rouse a smile from him. "Yeah, I'm not scared of pain anymore. I know it happens. Besides, women do this all the time."

"We'll keep the option open, of course," he said.

"It's the only pain I've been built for," she admitted thoughtfully, staring at the painting. "Given my life in the last three years, I basically can't wait to try and be prepared, for once."

The only sound in the room to her was the tick of a clock standing clean and neat in the back corner. She wondered if he could hear the baby's heart. Toby's. She couldn't help but put a hand to his tiny life, and give it a rub as she thought of him, turning her attention back to the painting.

"Is this old?" she wanted to know.

"Only from the 1960's," he confessed. "This is from an old friend who was tripping on acid, I believe."

She giggled. Elijah's mouth making the words 'tripping' and 'acid' was amusing, and he knew it, because he rolled his eyes.

"I lived through every possible era between my own and right now, I had to adapt my language on occasion." He shook his head. "Always a wonder when I say something less antiquated than Shakespeare."

"But you do give good Shakespeare," she humored him. "And that makes me think of something. If you wanna - if you want to bring the laptop and do some, uh, translating. You're going to laugh. And I'm going to have to be alright with that. But..." She found the words a little embarrassing still, and managed to laugh at herself and shake her head.

"What?" His smile was warm.

"There's this movie," she said, and held her own flaming cheek in her hand. "Oh, god, this is embarrassing. It's - it's a really good movie. I think. I tried to watch it a few times, but the language - I don't understand it."

"What language?"

She chewed her growing smile.

"It's - it's an old one. It's set in the 20's. It’s called Paradise?"

It took him a second. She watched it click in his brain, the language she was so unsure of. Gangster slang. It was too fast for her to understand it fluently even if all the words could probably be deconstructed. Truth be told, Stefan had made her watch it, and it was beautifully shot with good music, enigmatic story, and a good pair of lead actors, but if they were talking fast she had no idea what they were saying.

His smile grew in size.

"Paradise," he repeated.

"Yeah. Do you wanna come watch it and tell me what's happening?"

He turned his face from her, probably trying to hide the smile.

"Ah-ha! I knew you'd laugh."

"I'm not laughing," he said, definitely grinning, flicking his eyes up at her. "I'll watch it with you, yes."

"Okay," she said, beaming. It felt like a victory, though she wasn't sure why. "I'll get blankets."

She thought twice about getting the ones from her room - the ones that probably smelt like sex. Digging through the linen press revealed some heavy feather ones that felt nice and heavy against her arms. She bundled them up and found him with his laptop on the arm of the couch, the remote in his hand, flicking through the hard drive to find the image of the lead actors pointing guns at each other.

She settled in beside him with the load of blankets on her lap, hugging a throw cushion to her chest while she crossed her legs and settled in.

The movie, black and white, opened on a soft scene of a bright city scape. Of people's shadows moving across the ground, and their reflections in windows. A voice - Vince's, the main male character - floated in, dreamy and low, through the speakers.

" _You ever meet a real live knock out dame? And I do mean literally, knock out_?" he drawled. He took a drag, breathed out hard. The screen panned across to a small back alley, and moved into shadows. " _Legs up to her neck, and whatta pretty neck she has. Top it all off, she's mighty fine, helluva doll face. Two bit shot and would likely cut ya for so much as a mean word, but have you ever met a gal worth bleedin' for?_ "

"So what that means..." Elijah said with a smirk.

"Hey wise guy," she shot back in her best gangster accent. "I know what the movie man's sayin' here."

"Beggin' y' pardon, doll," he drawled.

"You'll be beggin' by the time I'm through wit chu," Elena teased, and hunkered in to listen to the movie, trying to ignore the heat of his unsubtle stare aimed at the side of her head.

* * *

Lara wasn't having it. She fought off the grip of his hand on her suit, and in doing so, her carefully pinned hair unraveled from her head to a swell of dramatic music.

And Vince? He let her go, eyes widening, the dreamy lens of the camera making his lashes beautifully stark against his skin.

She swept her hair back and tried to pin it, hurried, looking angry but now more flustered. She was speaking fast, accent heavy, and this was about the time that Elena had to more or less guess from the context clues what she was saying.

She didn't want to take her eyes off the screen while Vince was still wounded and looking at his best friend - who was a woman??? - so she wriggled her toes over to Elijah's thigh and prodded him.

"Translate," she whispered.

"She's warning him not to tell a soul," he murmured. "She's telling him that if anyone finds out, she'll be beaten or worse, and left for dead. If he mentions it, she'll kill him, and no one will ever find his body."

There was a silence on the screen, while Lara was down on her knees trying to find the pins for her hair. Vince slowly sank to his own crouch and directed his eyes to the floor, spying one, handing it to her.

" _I wouldn't do that to you_ ," he promised her, voice like gravel. " _Not to you. You're my pal_."

Lara gasped, looked at him. There was no conceivable way she was ever mistaken as a male, not even as the boy she posed as being. Her beautiful full mouth was popped open in shock, eyes framed by gorgeous thick lashes. Definitely wearing mascara.

" _Vince_ ," she said, on a breath.

" _I don't even know your name_ ," he told her, lifting the pin between them. " _Maybe I don't have to. Maybe I just_ -" and he descended into more slang.

Elena dug her toes under Elijah's leg.

"What's he saying now?"

"He's saying," he said quietly. "That he's not going to ask any questions, and he's accepting that she's a woman. He's saying she'd saved him more times as a woman than anyone else had ever saved him as a man, and he's always going to look out for her because he respects her person before what’s in her pants. That he is in her debt. That she would always be able to count on him to keep her secret."

On the screen, Lara's hand finally, finally closed around the pin.

She ducked her eyes, pretending to search on the floor for the others, but not doing a very good job of it.

" _I never shoulda grabbed you_ ," Vince said.

" _I ain't fragile_ ," Lara snapped, turning from him. The camera focused on her face, brow drawn, looking intently down at the ground, her hands still in her lap. The focus shifted to Vince, in his beautiful dark pin striped suit, staring at her with his lips parted, his expression more and more destroyed as she went on. " _I'm not madea glass cuz I'ma woman, Vince. I do what needs doin', and if I think you're bound to get in my way, I'll do you in too_."

" _No_ ," said Vince, hurt. " _No, I ain't like that. You know me. You do. I know you know me, pal, I know you've been around now for long enough to know me. I won't hurt you, kid. I won't let any o' them hurt you neither."_

Lara shut her eyes, the fan of her lashes very dramatic. The camera changed to be behind Vince, now, and catch the moment she looked over her shoulder at him, as a half lidded woman.

" _I know you_ ," she agreed. She tucked her hair up and with her one pin, secured it, never taking her eyes from him. " _I know you ain't a half bad man_."

He said something that Elena completely missed, followed by a quick retort. She glanced at Elijah, who was watching the screen, head tilted in curiosity.

"He asked her if she'd been hurt by men before, she asked him if he thought she was a push over," he supplied. "Now he's thinking about it."

"Oh." Elena looked back to the screen. "Oh, that's why she-"

Smacked him, _pow, right in the kisser, baby_. He went on his ass, and Lara jammed her hat back on, hiding her lengthy hair. She adjusted her gun and gave Vince's ribs a little shove with the point of her shoe, pushing the air out of his lungs as she spoke low and fast.

"She's warning him to stay out of her way." Elijah said without prompt.

"He's not gonna do it, girl," Elena shook her head. "He's so in love with you."

"You've seen this before," Elijah teased.

"Yeah, but, it's different now I know what they're saying." She glanced at him, but didn't want to miss the incredible moment Vince got up to chase her from the warehouse, and stood in the doorway with the rain pouring and lightning flashing, back lighting her silhouette.

His voice, gravelly, wounded, came over the image.

" _You ever met a dame worth bleedin' for? Lady to lie and die for?_ " he asked in general, then slumped, defeated, against the door. " _No... me neither_."

"He could just go get her," Elena muttered, adjusting her blankets to pull up to her chin. "It's only rain."

"He just found out his dearest friend is someone he could be in love with."

"He's already in love with her." she muttered, watching the fade in of the city streets. Marko and Donnie sitting in the bar when Lara - dressed once more as John Lebret - pushed in with the energy of a thunderclap.

"He doesn't know that yet," Elijah amended. "Why would he chase someone he doesn't know he's in love with?"

Elena felt that hit a little too close to home.

_Yeah,_ Stefan's soft voice said in her mind. _Why would a man chase someone he doesn't know he's in love with?_

"They're talking about work," Elijah said helpfully. "They've made a hit."

"A hit?" she repeated, frowning at him. "They killed someone? Who?"

"One of the Irish boys from the docks. Marko took him out." He nodded to the screen, where Marko was drawing his thumb across his throat, grinning like a maniac. Lara laughed along, but the camera lingered on her face to show the flash of discomfort on her features.

"Oh, wait, that was Marko? I thought it was the kid from the hospital!"

"He dies later," Elijah said mildly. "Now they're saying where they hid the body. That they were going to dump him in the ocean but they were worried Fat Man wasn't going to take it for the message it was."

Lara firmed her shoulders.

" _I can dump him_ ," she said, voice hardened. Behind her, Vince strolled in, with a nice dark bruise and a hat low on his brow. " _I'll dump him right at Fat Man's feet. That way he'll know it's a hit apurpose_."

" _Geeze, Johnny_ ," Donnie hooted, knocking back a shot of something. " _You're insane! Fat Man only lets people into his territory, ya mook! He ain't let you out!"_

" _He'll have to, if I go with you_ ," Vince said boldly, whipping off his hat.

" _You stay outta this, Vince!_ " she snapped at him, taking two quick steps back. " _I ain't a baby no more, I wanna pull my weight! That Fat Man, he's gotta get the message, see?"_

"Did you ever run in those kind of crowds?" Elena wondered out loud, having to pat the blankets down to see Elijah over them.

"I _ran_ those kinds of crowds," he retorted, smirking at her snicker. He eyed the blanket folded over double on her, then down to where her feet were crammed under his thigh. "You're still cold?"

"It'll pass," she said absently, and looked back to the screen. Quite without meaning to, she added: "God, you would've looked nice in one of those suits."

"A favorite of mine was wine red," he agreed, eyes on his laptop as he scrolled through. "I wore it with a black shirt and tie. It was a signature. They called me Big Red."

"Big Red?" She cracked a smile, looking at him then. "They did not."

"They did," he chuckled. "I used to be notorious for gambling haunts. Kol was known for loose women and looser morals. Klaus ran the hits on the turf wars."

"What was your game of choice?"

"Texas hold 'em, ma'am." He tipped an imaginary hat at her and earned a laugh. He glanced at the laptop, then the TV, and finally down at her ankles. "Can I get you some socks?"

"No. You'll make them colder if you leave." She realized how weird and clingy it sounded, then curled her feet in, out from under his leg. "I mean - if you want."

He left and was back in a blur, unrolling a pair of his thick wool socks onto one foot, and up her shin. She pointed her toes to try and be helpful, and hid up to her eyes in her blankets while he did the same for the other foot, then took her ankles in his hand and put his thigh back over the top of them with a pat.

"Better?" he mused.

"Sorry," she said, muffled, into the feathers.

"Don't apologize," he soothed, and renegotiated the laptop back onto the arm of the couch. "I don't mind."

She couldn't stop thinking about it. How easy it was for them in this era. Him, in his beautiful grey suit (black tie, white shirt), sitting with his laptop open while she cuddled into the couch and watched a black and white movie. Her poor heart had never thought it would happen, this quiet, lovely moment, where they were normal and peaceful and not having to hide affection.

Although she would've much rather been sitting right next to him, using his chest as a pillow, she took what she had of the moment, and was happy about it.

The movie passed in relative quiet. Lara and Vince were planning to drop the dead Irish boy off at Fat Man's house, right into his living room while he hosted a party with the mayor in the smoking room, which was all news to Elena because that's not what they ended up doing.

They ended up sending him down the chimney into the smoking parlor, upsetting the party, starting a fire and sending all the notable guests out in a frenzy.

Vince was wearing a mask, but Lara wasn't, and Fat Man was the only person who saw them making a getaway on the roof. He swore and shook his fist at them, and the camera faded away to a calendar to mark the date had changed to the end of year.

Vince was in his nicest suit, hair slicked away from his face, a cigarette hanging from his mouth while lazy jazz filled his small apartment. There was a knock on his door and he went to open it, stopping stunned at Lara - dressed wholly and solely as a woman - smiled through painted lips on the other side.

She drawled something at him and sauntered in like the cat who'd gotten the canary. That wasn't in gangster, but Elena wasn't focusing.

Elijah had put his hand on her ankle and left it there.

"Alright?" he wondered at her softly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It'll go away eventually."

"Not the cold," he murmured. He patted her ankles. "Is it alright for me to touch you?"

She blinked at him.

Yes. _Please_ touch me. I _need_ you. I _want_ you. I _adore_ you, and I've _missed_ you.

_No_ , don't touch me. If you touch me I'll _lose my mind_. I'll tell you _everything._

_I've missed you so much._

"It's warmer when you do," was her lie by omission.

He left his hand on her ankles while Lara told Vince her tragic tale; a tale of her father being a good man corrupted by a badly dealt hand, a debt that he couldn't pay, and being made an example of. Of how that example was made in front of her as a teenager, and how she'd carefully planned her vengeance.

" _Justice found a way through me,"_ she said, eyes shining. " _I've waited years to see him behind bars, Vince. But I did it. I made him pay. "_

" _You're a sheer force of will in a human body_ ," Vince replied, mouth curling into a smile. " _It's why I love you."_

A beat. The music spun as though someone hit the conductor, and the camera went right up close to catch the tears brimming on Lara's lashes.

" _You what?"_

_"I love you, kid_ ," he said again. " _Have for a little while now. Ever since I knew I could. When you -"_

Elena looked at Elijah.

"When she took care of those men in the bar fight," he supplied. "And handled the gun better than most of his friends."

"He did watch her like he wanted to eat her alive," Elena muttered, and blinked hugely at the screen. "Trust me. I would know."

Elijah chuckled.

"Yes, I'm familiar with it too."

"Being looked at like someone wants to eat you?"

"I'm rather more acquainted with doing the looking," he mused, and arched a brow at her.

"Oh yeah." She'd forgotten he was a vampire. His hand had always been warm.

The music was beautiful. Vince stopped their kiss to carefully unwind her hair, stroking his fingers through it to lose all of the pins. She clutched his tie and the front of his blazer, and stared up at him, tears glittering into her hairline.

" _Vince_ ," she said, for once in the movie using a soft, feminine voice. " _Vince, if you don't kiss me right this second, I think I'll die."_

" _Well,_ " he murmured, touching her chin. " _We can't have that now, can we, miss...?"_

" _Lara_ ," she laughed, pressing many, many kisses to his face, leaving prints of her mouth everywhere. " _Lara Lestrade, and don't you forget it!_ "

He caught her face and planted the final kiss on her, sweeping her off her feet literally, cradling her close to his body. She had both arms around him and was still laughing while they kissed.

The End.

Elena sighed, ran her fingers through her hair.

"Better." She nodded, satisfied. "I wasn't really missing out on what I thought I was."

"No?"

"No. Thanks." She looked over and smiled at him, fluffing the blankets down to see his face. "For translating."

"You're welcome." He bowed his head to her, then rubbed her ankles. "What shall we have for dinner, then, hm? What are you in the mood for?"

She rubbed her belly under the covers, thinking with a low hum.

"I think we want..." she said, thinking deeply. "Pasta."

He was beaming.

"Both of you?"

"Yes." She hunkered down on the couch, wiggling her toes further under his leg. "We do."

"You're blushing."

"I am not." It didn't help to be pointed out, and made her blush more.

"You're a horrible liar, and you're still blushing. What kind of pasta do you two want?"

"I don't know," she squeaked, and pulled the blanket over her head. "Red?"

"Red pasta?" He was laughing and trying to keep it quiet. She could tell, because he was shaking. "Or red sauce?"

"Red sauce," she told the blankets, pulled entirely over her head. "Please."

"Alright," he teased. "If the majority have voted, I suppose I'll have to comply."

He rubbed her ankle, still wrapped up in his sock, and then got up, tugging the blanket down around her foot, tucking it in. It effectively bared the top of her head to the world, a fact she only became aware of because he brushed his fingers over her crown on his way past.

It reminded her of Mikeal, and her heart swooped into an ugly pit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews feed the author


	6. Heat

Elena had barely woken to the knock on her door.

"Good morning," Elijah said simply. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"No," she said blandly, and shut the door between them, crossing the room and climbing back into the bed with a huff.

* * *

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she said, peeking into his office. "I normally wake up better than that, Elijah, I'm sorry."

"I'll forgive you if you agree to let me buy you a new wardrobe," he said easily. "In addition to breakfast."

"Like," she tucked her hair behind her ear. "I actually rely on you for all the food supply, so..."

* * *

"This is horrible," she muttered, knowing he'd hear. "We have to go soon. I'm too fat and gross for this."

She inspected the curve of her belly under the floaty pink shirt, scowling at it. Ugly. Ugly, ugly, ugly. The tag read 54 bucks, but she wouldn't have paid 5 at a garage sale, even if she wasn't pregnant.

After it lay discarded on the floor, she tried a long black body con dress. It wasn't maternity, per se, but she'd spied it on the way in and thought the sleeves and material looked pretty toasty.

"My hair is gross. I could wring it out it's so oily," she muttered, pulling on the dress over her sore boobs very carefully. "And I haven't got any make up on. All those ladies out there think that you're my sugar daddy, don't they? It's because I look like _this_ , and you look like _that_."

She adjusted the hem to below her knees and realized the dress was a dream. Even the bump looked good, accentuating curves that didn't usually exist. It was the only thing in the store that she'd liked, even better than her own leggings. She tilted her head at her reflection, her tiny, pleased smile, the length of her hair brushing the top of her stomach.

"Oh," she said, and unlocked the door to peer out of it. "Uhm. I like this one."

He was waiting patiently on a seat with his legs neatly crossed, brows raised from over his phone.

"Words I never thought I'd hear," he said lightly, and locked the device to tuck it in his breast pocket. "Only the one?"

"Yeah." She inched open the door. "Can I wear it out now?"

He eyes went, very slowly, down her throat, to her fuller breasts, and the belly her hand still rested against. The hem was low, but it was also given a long stare as though it was scandalous.

"Yes," he said, decidedly, and stood, buttoning his blazer and putting his eyes elsewhere. "Your clothes in a bag?"

"Sure." She went to bend and collect them but he'd blurred and beat her to it, folding the leggings and long sleeved shirt on his arm.

He was not looking at her.

She swallowed.

"Wait. You hate it. Is it too...?" She twisted her head to check her backside, finding it high and tight and round. She saw him check her out in the mirror. "Sexy momma?"

"Oo-ee!" said the sales girl on her way past. "You're exactly the right amount of sexy, momma!"

"I think you look more comfortable," he agreed. "I don't hate it."

She did feel more comfortable. More in his league. She would've felt wholly better if she'd had the chance to put any makeup on, or had shoes that weren't sneakers. She twisted her mouth, looked around the store, and spied the shoe wall.

Elijah followed her eye line and reached out and plucked a pair, passing them to her on a single finger. They were cute little low heeled booties with a round toe and gold rim around the join between heel and shoe.

"Yeah, they're cute." She undid the zip on the inside, thinking that she'd just lean on the wall behind her to get them tried on, but Elijah had hiked up his trousers and crouched, taking the back of her calf in his hand. "Wh-what are you doing?"

He eased her into standing on one leg, putting her socked foot up on his thigh. He opened his hand for the shoes and she passed them down, watching him steer her foot inside the boot and pull up the zip.

It was sexy. She knew it was sexy on one level of her brain. But also, she hadn't shaved her legs in like a week, so there was no way he wasn't getting a handful of prickles down there.

"How does it feel?" he wanted to know, staring up at her.

"Yeah, good," she shrugged, bit her lips. "Uhm, yeah. Comfy."

"Supportive?" His other hand closed around her ankle, thumb stroking the sensitive inside. That, at least, was bare of hair. She could relax about that.

"Uh huh."

Why was her mouth so dry? Holy shit, her fucking hormones. Heat started to fill her face, because there was no way, no way, he was so close to her kitty without knowing where all the blood in her body was heading.

He shifted and moved her foot down, then picked up the other in much the same way. He kept that large, warm hand against her skin while the other managed to get her foot in the boot and down as a means to steady her, although it likely did the total opposite.

There was no way she wasn't actively wet in her underwear. He would know. Oh, god, he would _know._

"How do you feel?"

"Yeah, fine, good," she muttered, and ducked her head. A wave of hair slid over her shoulder and she was quick to try and step back, though the elastic keeping the shoes together pulled short and she nearly went down on her ass.

If not, of course, for him being there to catch her. Full body, hands at the small of her back, leaning over her but not imposingly.

He arched a brow.

"Elena?"

"Yes?"

His smile was small and naughty.

"They don't think I'm your sugar daddy," he purred, very content. "They think I'm worshiping you as you are due."

"Uh..." She flicked her eyes at the sales ladies, all of whom were staring. They all pretended to go about their business at her small attention, but all Elena could really think about was the slow drag of his hands up her back as he let her go. So innocent. But she wanted it to pull his hands to her ass and have him grab her like he meant it. "What makes you say that?"

"Even if I couldn't hear what they were saying, I would know it's because you look like _this_." He brushed a length of hair from over her nose with the back of his knuckle. "Young and beautiful, and clearly carrying my baby."

She didn't know what to say. She was flustered. He was so close she could feel the heat of him. Her hands were fisted in his suit and her protruding belly was the only reason they weren't body-to-body, and she was flooding with wetness, imagining him fucking her in the change room on all those ugly, too-expensive clothes.

Legs hooked over his forearms, not even entirely out of his suit. Holy cow. Her hormones were out of control.

"They don't," she muttered, and shuttered her eyes at him, taking a more careful step back. She let his suit go. "They don't think that, Elijah, don't be dramatic."

"It's true," he said with a small smile. "The receptionist at the clinic, she thought that of us. That you were someone I kept on my payroll, that I was keeping you out of responsibility."

"Wait, what?" She blinked. "The receptionist - the one you compelled to 'be nice'? You went murder-death stare over _that_?"

The corner of his mouth kicked up.

"Stones in glass houses," he reminded her. "You thought these ladies were thinking badly of you."

“Yeah, so?”

“You hated all the clothes to spite them.”

"I did not." She absolutely had. "Everything in there was too - floral."

"Oh?" He leaned back to look at the lonely clothes on the hangers. Some not even tried on, still neat and folded as they had been when she'd picked them out initially. "Funny. Not a single flower."

She sucked in her cheek and bit it to try and stop the laugh that threatened to burst out of her throat, and managed to dial it into a low chuckle.

"Okay." She bowed her head to pay the call out. "But I'm pregnant. You're a thousand years old. What's your excuse?"

"Do I need a reason to want to protect you from idle gossip?" He shrugged, getting back down into a crouch to snap the elastic from her shoes and collect the barcode, reaching behind her as he stood to pull the tag from the back of the dress. "Do I need a reason to correct a woman's poor attitude whose day to day job involves talking to emotionally vulnerable ladies?"

There he was. Her Elijah. Noble for noble's sake. Truly kind, concerned, observant and thoughtful. Under the veneer of the vampire, he was there, a warm heart in a dead chest.

"No," she said mildly.

"No." He agreed, and offered her his bent arm. "Do you want to go home? Or would you like to continue shopping elsewhere?"

She took it, smiling softly at the rightness of her hand back in the crook of his elbow. She felt good. Better than good. Competent and capable. While not worshiped as she knew he was fully capable of, the overall vibe was that she was being looked after.

"Maybe a few more won't hurt," she said quietly, and ducked her head from the frankly triumphant smirk he gave her in return.

* * *

How did one sneak around behind a vampire's back, exactly? Especially when said vampire was unquestionably attuned to listening for her?

She couldn't sleep.

She was hornier than she'd ever been in her life, and it was the most frustrating experience ever to be in bed and be idle. So she pulled on Elijah's socks - because they were the warmest ones she had - and tiptoed out in her new silky nightdress. It was a pretty pastel pink color, sitting lacy across her swollen boobs and complimenting her belly. It fell to her mid-thigh with a little split up the side, and was at least not see-through.

Still, she was coming out of the tail end of a cold flash, so she also piled into the thick robe with the curly E printed on her breast pocket, opening the door as slowly as possible.

She made it all the way to the kitchen before she realized the sneaking around portion of her trip was for naught.

He was already up, although not dressed in his usual attire; just in a grey t-shirt and navy sleep pants. His hair was neat though not combed, and he was ready with his eyebrows up.

"Good morning," she said, her voice husky.

"Good morning." He checked his watch. "A little early for you, isn't it?"

"Maybe a little late." She rubbed her eyes, the spike shooting through her chest at the mere sound of his voice. She squeezed her legs together and hoped it was able to be hidden subtly behind her robe. She took in a deep, deep breath. "I can't sleep."

"Again?" he murmured. "Elena, you can't keep staying awake like this. Should I call the doctor?"

"No, I don't think so. I just - I can't sleep tonight. This morning, whatever. I have cravings."

"Are you eating enough during the day?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm eating plenty."

"Can I get you anything now?" He rose from the stool he was perched on.

"No." _You can do something about all the nerves in my clit being stimulated against my will, K thankssss._ "Uhm. Yes. Maybe."

"Of course." He softened. "Anything. Shall we send for something in?"

"No, but thanks." She was beet red and she knew it. "Could you just... not move? For a second?"

She walked over before she lost her nerve, and sort of, butted her head against his shoulder, hid her embarrassment in his arm while she slid her hands under his arms and linked her fingers on his back. He settled around her like an old friend, chin on top of her head, hand stroking her hair, without a prompt.

"This isn't snacks," she muttered. "I'm aware this isn't snacks. Still a craving."

He held her a little tighter. She felt him swallow.

"Far be it from me to tell you what you do or don't need," he said softly. His knuckles ran over her back, and trailed up and down her spine with both the exact right amount of heat, and pressure.

"I'm sorry I'm so weird and clingy," she told the air behind his head, squeezing her eyes shut like she could see his expression. "I know you probably want the least amount of this possible."

"Don't say that," he murmured, and flattened both hands against her back, bringing her in a little closer. "I want what you want. I want to make you as comfortable and happy as I can. If you want me to hold you, Elena, then that's what I want. Please don't cry, sweetheart."

She couldn't help it. He didn't know how he'd already told her that exact same thing. How he wanted what she wanted. How he only needed what she was willing to give him. It was part of their torrid love story, but he didn't even know he was repeating the sentiment.

"Sorry," she said, sniffing hard. "I can't stop. It's so annoying."

"Stop apologizing for nothing," he said easily. "It's not a problem."

"I hate being like this," she confessed. "When Jenna died I cried for nearly a fortnight. Twelve days. My funeral plans had so many tears they had to call me to confirm the smudges."

He stroked her hair.

"I am sorry that you suffered that loss," he said gently. "I know she was important to you."

She shook.

"Stefan was important to me. But I broke up with him after I found out about Toby." She felt him stiffen under her cheek, but his hand never stopped comforting her back. "I didn't even think about it for an hour after I set the tests on fire. I showed up to his house and just... broke up with him. I couldn't stop crying. I didn't want to. I'm a slave to every emotion I feel. I can't imagine being a vampire."

"This pain, you feel," he soothed. "These emotions. They won't last forever."

"Yeah but it sure feels like it," she admitted in a grumble. She gave him one tight squeeze, then let go, ducking her head from him to wipe her face. "Thanks. I might - I might make some calls. Talk to Jeremy."

"That's a good idea," he said softly. "Elena, if you wanted me to collect your brother and bring him here-"

"No, no way," she glanced up at him, eyes widening. "No. I don't want him involved. He has school and his own life to worry about."

"You'd make yourself a liar if you told me he wasn't already worried about you," he pointed out.

"Jeremy knows me," she muttered.

"Precisely why I think it's a good idea for you to talk to him," he said mildly. "Your track record lends to the idea that you're inclined to danger."

She scowled at him, though it was playful. He only held up his hands, a small smile on his mouth.

"Thanks," she said, feeling a little pink in her cheeks. "For the hug."

"Any time," he said smoothly. "Will you have breakfast?"

"We could eat," she shrugged a shoulder, then snickered at the look of joy that lit him up. He liked it when she referenced the baby, too. It made him happy. "We might be feeling like crepes, if it please the Lord Mikealson."

His smile turned wicked.

"Anything for the lady of the manor," he said, and swept into a low bow.

* * *

She turned on her phone and it glitched out from the influx of messages and missed calls.

Her brain was a hot mess while she waited for the courage to come to her and the phone to load. It was the usual suspects; Matt, Caroline, Bonnie, Stefan, Damon, Jeremy.

It's was Jeremy's name she pressed above them all, and he'd only sent one text.

Jeremy: _I get it. I love you. Please be safe and let me know when you get to wherever you're going. x_

"Hey, Jer," she said softly. The smell of breakfast was winding up the stairs, something sweet and warm. Cinnamon, maybe. Yum. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, how are you?" He sounded only vaguely concerned. "You're safe, right?"

"Yeah, I'm safe." She sat on the end of her bed, hot tears in her eyes. There wasn't a strong enough curse word in the dictionary for how hormones made her feel, so she just tried to ignore it, even though her tear ducts were swollen and sore. "Everything okay at home?"

"What do you think?" he said, with humor. "Your boyfriends are going crazy. They think I know where you are."

"Just keep eating your vervain," was her advice. "They'll get it eventually."

"Bonnie said you're cloaked."

"I had a witch who owed me a favor," she drawled. "And aren't I glad that I did. I knew no one would listen to me. What part of give me space and time did they not understand? No. The second little fragile Elena makes any movements outside of what they think is acceptable, all bets are off. I don't have my own autonomy."

"They're worried."

"They're the entire reason I left," she retorted. "If I could've taken you I would've. But everyone else... they can stay there, the hell away from me."

He paused.

"What happened?" he said quietly. "Why'd you run away?"

"Everything happened." She firmed her lips, wiped her eyes. "It's not - about any one thing, Jer, it's all of it. I'm not talking about it. I don't want to talk about it."

"If I can fix things, will you come home?" The hope in his voice made her hang her head, rub her temples with her free hand.

"No," she said, honestly, because there was no point in lying. "I actually-... I like it, out here, in the world. I've got a good place; I have good support."

"Who are you with?" he asked, and then immediately backtracked. "Actually, don't tell me. I don't want to know. As long as you're okay. You sound sad."

"I am sad," she said softly. "That it had to come to this."

He hummed, low.

"Bonnie said she could find you if she asked the ancestors on the next - like, full moon, or something," he muttered. "If you didn't stay in touch. But she hasn't told Damon and Stefan that."

"If I think for even a second that Bonnie is flexing her witch powers," she said lowly. "I will fall off the face of the earth and never, ever come back. I mean it, Jer. Keep her out of my business."

"I will," he promised. "Jesus, Elena, you're scaring me now."

"Good. Tell them I'm serious." She studied the rug in front of her. "I have to lose my temper any time I want them to listen to me. It's not fair. They're supposed to be my friends, and I have to resort to secrets and lies just for my own peace."

"I know." He sighed. "Caroline is going crazy trying. She got some footage from Sheriff Forbes laptop - some little crappy fuel station out in the sticks. But she hasn't got anything else."

Elena breathed out, long and hard.

"I'll call her next," she said, with a placidness she didn't truly feel. "Thanks, Jer. I love you."

"I love you too. Call me tomorrow, okay, just-... Let me know what's going on. I'll keep you in the loop."

"Okay," she agreed. And for good measure: "I love you, Jer."

"Love you too, Elena."

Caroline had sent increasingly frantic text messages. They had started off casual, but escalated into many emojis, spelling errors, and then just straight up capital letters. In between her and Damon, it was honestly a miracle she'd managed to get out of the house, let alone the town.

"ELENA WHERE ARE-?"

"If you don't back off," Elena said through her teeth. "I will never, ever see you again."

A shocked inhale of air.

" _Elena_ -"

"No, you listen," she said darkly. "I'm not kidding. Get out of your mother's computer and stop looking for me, Caroline. _You're_ the reason I left. All of you want to ignore me and how I feel? Ignore how I want to handle my own life? That's fine. But _none of you_ are invited to it now. That's on you. If you ever want to salvage this friendship, you had better leave me alone. Do you understand me?"

Caroline, for once, was quiet.

"Good," Elena said, and hung up.

Her thumbs hit Matt's number and she sent him a text:

(Hey. I'm all good. Settled in.)

He didn't reply instantly, and she realized it was because he'd be at work, and the Boy Scout never kept his phone on him.

She sent Stefan a text shortly after:

(Leave Jeremy alone, he doesn't know where I am.)

(Where are you?)

(It doesn't matter.)

(Are you okay?)

(Define 'okay')

(Safe?)

(Safer than I was if I was there.)

(If you need me, you can call.)

(If I needed you, I would've stayed.)

He read the message and then didn't reply. She knew the exact look he'd be wearing when he did it, too, and it hurt her heart. She wiped her face, and sent Damon a text:

(Keep harassing my brother and see what happens.)

(If you don't come home I'll do more than just harass him.)

(Oh sure guess I'll just be on my way right now.)

He called her.

"Facetious isn't a good look on you," he purred, dangerous, in her ear.

"You wouldn't know," she said dryly. "Because you can't see me."

A beat.

"When I find you," he said, and she could hear he was smiling. "And I will, find you. I'm gonna drag your ass back to this town, and I'm gonna enjoy all the pouting, and the kicking, and the hitting, because guess what? You're not going to be able to stop me. So why not save us both the trouble and cut out the hard part?"

"Is the hard part where your heart used to be?" she raised her eyebrows at the floor. "Maybe you and Caroline should have a conversation about the reasons I left Mystic Falls, Damon. Maybe that conversation should include things like boundaries, and the meaning of the word friendship."

"I don't care if you think we're friends," he snapped. "By the time I'm finished with locking you down -"

"Have fun with that," she said, and hung up, blocking the next five attempts to call her with a hard swipe over the red Decline button.

(I will not stop,) came his next text message. (Until your cute ass is back in this town.)

She sent him an emoji of a middle finger.

Bonnie seemed to anticipate the call, so whether Jeremy or Caroline got to her first, she'd never know. She picked up halfway through the first ring.

"Elena."

"Bonnie."

Silence.

"Stop looking for me," Elena said calmly. "I'm fine."

"'Fine' isn't sneaking off into the night," Bonnie replied, just as calmly.

"Okay, point," Elena said fairly. "Now imagine I said I wanted to go on a solo road trip for an undetermined amount of time."

"Point," Bonnie conceded. "Can I do I spell to make sure you're safe? Not doing something inherently you, like offering up your life to some centuries old vamp or something for the greater good?"

"That depends," she said lightly. "Would it have made a difference if I was?"

"You would do anything to save me, Elena," Bonnie said softly. "You would die for me. You have already tried. The least I can do is try and talk you out of any trouble you might be in - and don't you dare tell me that's not fair, because you're the one who would come for me through hell or high water to make sure I was okay."

Elena pursed her lips.

"I'm not trying to die for anyone, Bonnie," she said simply. "I'm trying to live for me. I left because I needed to leave."

"You didn't speak to anyone," Bonnie stressed. "How were we supposed to know someone hadn't just - taken you? It could've been anyone. Klaus, your mother, my mother, Katherine - or how about some random witch who wants to use doppelganger blood, or someone who wanted to get back at Stefan, or Damon, or Ric? A note didn't go very far before we all started to panic."

"Point," Elena said again, tallying Bonnie's score at 2 to her 1. Hm. "I should've said something. Called someone sooner. But I'm calling now."

"Why did you leave?" Bonnie said quietly. "Couldn't I have helped?"

"You might've," Elena agreed. "But this thing, I'm in? It's mine. I needed time and space, and I wasn't going to get it there."

"Time and space," Bonnie repeated. "But what support?"

"Why do you think I want the support I would've gotten there?" she reasoned. "What about if I want to do something on my own? Make my own choices? Not feel like a misstep will steal them away from me? Because every time I make my decisions, they get undone for me. How is that fair?"

Bonnie sighed.

"Point," she said, grudgingly, which made them even. An old trick of theirs to solve the few arguments they'd ever had, they counted points that they could understand from the other person's point of view. Surprisingly helpful.

It never worked with Caroline.

"I'm not-..." she paused. "That town? The way it was all going? It's toxic to me. It just – it just hurts me. How many people have I loved that have died there? All the pain in my life lives in those walls. It’s a joke to ask me to stay. Please just-... Jeremy said you could use the ancestors to find me."

"I can."

"I'm asking you not to."

There was a pause.

"One spell," Bonnie bartered. "Just one. To see if you're safe. It's literally a yes or no answer. I can't find you, I can't tell who you're with, and I can't understand the situation from it. But I need permission to cast."

Elena thinned her lips.

"Let me find someone who might know what you're doing," she said slowly. "And then maybe I'll agree."

"Okay," she said, and they both stopped, considering the other person.

"I still love you," Elena said helpfully.

"Yeah. I know. I love you too."

"Look after my brother," she said. "And tell Caroline I'm fine, regardless if you cast the spell or not."

"I'm not going to start lying to Caroline because you asked me to," Bonnie said wisely. "But I will keep her out of your business. Because you're right... it's your business, and if you wanna handle it by yourself, that's your right."

"Thanks, Bonnie." Elena shifted on the bed, rubbing her skull. She wished things were different. That her friends would've accepted her and the baby, and moreover the baby's father. Just because she didn't trust them with her child, didn't mean she didn't love them. "So... what are you up to now?"

"Still looking for this idiotic medallion," Bonnie said, and rolled her eyes. "Mikeal's spirit is not allowed into my house - it's protected by my ancestors. So Jer was pretty much here all the time, before Damon and Stefan decided to harass him, anyway."

"I hope they're leaving him alone outside of your house though. He's got enough to deal with without a vampire at his back, doing his scary eye thing."

"Puh-lease," Bonnie said with what Elena could feel was a dramatic eye roll for the ages. "As if I don't take every chance I get to send Damon flying. It's almost a Pavlovian response to seeing me that he just flies away."

Elena giggled.

"I appreciate that," she said, laying back on the bed. "So my brother's little ghost friend isn't leaving him alone, then?"

"The ancestors are pretty fond of Jeremy, so my Grams and some of my other relatives keep Mikeal quiet for the most part, but they can't be everywhere at once. He's tricky. That's why I want the medallion."

"How goes the hunt?"

"It isn't. I finally got in contact with a few Armenian professors who swore they had it, and it turns out it was actually Poseidon’s medallion, not Aries'." She sighed hard. "As it turns out, after Tatia went back in her time, the thing just... went missing. She buried a box under a tree with a few letters inside saying that no one ever saw it, or the markings of it. It's weird. But it's like it just... fell off the face of the earth."

"What does it do?" Elena murmured. "You never told me how it would help."

"Well," Bonnie hung onto the syllable, thinking. "Essentially it's a powerful item that can channel any power. But it's sort of a totem for war."

"Uh huh," Elena said. "Which is clearly the best option for fighting ghosts?"

"Well this one is. It's supposed to give the user super strength and near impenetrable skin, but if we could've harnessed that, we could've made a representation of Mikeal's ghost body and been able to destroy that."

"Kill a ghost." Elena blinked at the ceiling. "With a Grecian coin. From a god of war."

"You know. Our average Wednesday night," Bonnie said dryly, and they paused, before both falling into a bout of laughter.

The sheer idiocy of their lives, man. Elena felt better for laughing, and her smile stayed on her face even when Bonnie said she needed to go - that she would expect a call within the week to know how Elena was doing. She agreed and hung up, lighter than she'd been in weeks.

She could've dozed, but her sensitive nose made her rise and shed a layer, toing off Elijah's socks as a heat wave made her skin prickle. She tied her hair up as she came down the stairs, feeling at least a little accomplished.

Elijah was standing over the oven with his sleeves rolled up, checking the underside of a crepe. She butted her head against his arm and he opened it so she could hide under his wing, staring down at the pan.

"How did it go?" his voice echoed in her ear.

She shut her eyes.

"Better than I thought," she decided. "Didn't you hear everything?"

"No. I tuned out most of it. Although you're right, to think that they smother you," he said mildly. "But sometimes that happens, when you love someone prone to trouble."

"Let's hope it isn't inheritable," she mumbled, but got a slight chuckle out of him. It lit up her world, to have him there between her arms. He made all the difference to her mood. "Do you want to watch a movie after breakfast?"

"Yes," he flipped the cake, one handed.

"Anything in particular?"

"That depends," he looked down at her, eyes glittering. "Do you need anything else translated?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Any chance you're going to let me live that down?"

"Not in the slightest," he said mildly, and the casual note in his tone made her laugh.

She tucked back into his side and swallowed, feeling the way he allowed her to cuddle up to him, but not quite returning it. He was in no way uncomfortable - but he wasn't _her Elijah_. The one who craved her the way she craved him. The one who would have petted her hair, or kissed her brow.

Elena had to remind herself that to him, she'd only been so clingy for like, half an hour. Her Elijah had been clingy for like, all his human life.

"Thanks," she said, and untangled from him.

"You didn't feel quite like you wanted to let go," he murmured, and opened his arm. "You're more than welcome to take your fill."

"I don't want you to feel weird," she said, and crossed the room to put the island bench between them. She popped up onto a stool and felt the hem of her silky dress slide an inch up her leg. "Also, that oven it boiling and I'm gonna start sweating."

"Ah," he said, and continued to make her breakfast.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Matt.

(I'm worried)

(Don't be, I'm all good. Bonnie and Jer have the deets I'm willing to give.)

(You're not in trouble are you?)

(Never. x)

"They're still worried?" Elijah mused, setting down cutlery and her steaming plate. "Ice cream?"

"Oh my god, yes, please." Her mouth was watering. "You're the best."

"I do try to please my people," he teased, his back turned to the fridge. Thankfully, he didn't see her flinch when she came to the sudden conclusion that everything he was doing wasn't solely for her - it was for his son. She was just the filter in between.

Her crepes were not as sweet as she thought they'd be, after that.

* * *

She dreamt of the old gods.

Well. One of them, any way.

Loki bowing before her, pressing his kind mouth to the tops of her bare feet. His hands sending little sparks of pleasure as he cupped them around her calves and smoothed them up to behind her knees. He knelt, glittering kaleidoscope eyes fixated on her belly.

“My brother,” he said slyly, and pressed his mouth to her belly button. “He’s a fool.”

“Is he?” she swallowed.

He hummed in agreement.

“But he’s quite a fortunate fool,” he went on thoughtfully. He inhaled deep at her navel, and inched forward to her. His careful hands gripped her hips and pulled her closer, until his face was pressed to her stomach. She was so gone on the burst of heat in her crotch she couldn’t identify where they were, or what was really happening, outside of how good it felt.

“Loki,” she said quietly, and clutched his head in two trembling hands. She knew better, but she demanded he kiss her again by urging forward his head. “I-…I shouldn't-“

“Hush, love. Of course you should indulge,” he murmured, and flicked his eyes to her face. He was so dangerous, but he was on his knees? “Tell me. Tell me what you’d like.”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Ask,” he said. His hands kneaded her tense muscles patiently.

“You’re a trickster,” she protested. She did not let his head go. “Anything I ask for – you’ll find a way to twist it –“

“Yes, one favor for another is generally the way of things,” he soothed, and started to wind up her dress, a steadily devious smile directed up at her. “What do you want, little one?”

“I want my son to be healthy and live a long life,” was the only thing she could think to ask for. “Is that – is that two things?”

“I’ll count it as one. Children’s health is always a good choice, when making such deals,” he approved. “You understand I will take what I want to pay it?”

“If it’s what I think it is,” she said on a breath. “I sure hope you do.”

“What do you think it is?” he mused.

“Uhm,” she said, and managed to stroke her shaking fingers through his hair more kindly. “Oral?”

“Is that what we call it nowadays?” he laughed, and hooked her thigh over his shoulder. “How succinct.”

His eyes were every color and every animal – goat, cow, shark, mouse, puppy, cat and snake – and Elena shut her eyes to the never ending shift as his tongue (equally not human, but she strictly wasn’t identifying which tongue stroked so far within her).

She shuddered and whimpered, and his warm, firm hands kept her steady.

“Wait,” she whispered. “Wait, what about Elijah?”

“Trust me, he won’t mind,” he promised her thickly, and she lost all coherent train of thought when he reapplied his skillful tongue.

* * *

She was melting.

All the blankets had to be kicked off. The persistent ache between her legs wasn't going away, but she knew Elijah would know what she was doing if she tried to take care of it by herself. He'd hear it, he might even smell it.

Her goddamn hormones were _just out of control_.

It was sensitive, at a testing rub of her forefinger over the top of her underwear. So, so sensitive. She wanted his hot mouth and firm hands, and shut her eyes, forcing them to stay shut with the heels of her palms digging in.

She kicked the blankets again, glaring at the time.

 _2:43am_ , the red lights said. _Time to masturbate furiously!_

She was just so frustrated, dammit. Her whole body was leaning into the ache, but she couldn't fix the problem. There was already slick between her legs and she wasn't even thinking horny thoughts. The issue she had wasn't with the masturbating part, because it was the first time in months she had wanted to consciously, but it did matter to her what Elijah thought.

Why?

Because it was Elijah.

He would probably pass it off as hormones, and urges, and that was fine; she knew he was a gentleman, and knew he loved women who loved pleasure, which was - also, fine - but the problem was, she wanted something from him.

To ask for his golden mouth, his tender kisses. She burned not just for the images she could play behind her lids, but for his touch. Memories were well and good, but she was getting desperate.

"Elijah," she murmured into the darkness. "Come here for a minute?"

He eased open her door a scant second later, rumpled but not sleepy looking. If he guessed by the state of her heart how scared she was, he didn't let on.

"Everything alright?" he asked softly.

She made out the shape of him reaching for the lights.

"Don't turn the lights on," she whispered. "Please."

She bit her lip. Her heart was banging.

"Elena," he said patiently. "What can I do?"

"You said if I had cravings... I need... a little help." she reached down and cupped herself. "With... this."

He said nothing for long enough that she felt stupid, and started talking.

"If you don't want to, that's fine," she said, and sat in the bed, forcing her hand out of her crotch. "I- I'll get over it. If - if you think that, being with me is too much because of - Katherine, or -... I'll understand."

He moved across the room, taking a seat on the furthest corner of her bed. His short hair was in spikes and she wanted to run her fingers through it.

"It isn't about them," he said. "It's about you. These - feelings, you're having, in this moment, they won't last. You won't even look at me now. How will you look at me tomorrow?"

She was squeezing her thighs together, knew he'd know what it meant, that _things were happening_ and she was getting whatever little reprieve she could from the clench of her own body. Her hands were wringing the sheets, toes scrunching. She was sweating and wanted to pull off her shirt.

Every button he had, she knew. She knew that nothing got him going quite like desperate, squirming, pleading messes. So she confessed:

"I can't stop. It won't go away. It's been so, so persistent."

At his silence, she wet her lips.

"If you don't want me," she said finally, swallowing hard. "Can you go put some loud music on until I'm done?"

"What makes you _think_ ," his voice was low. God. "I don't want you?"

"Because you're not here." She opened her legs. Brazen. Too much? Not enough. He didn't budge from the far side of the bed. Was he angling to get her begging? She'd do it. Christ, she'd do it.

"We need rules," he said softly, and very slowly got off the bed, prowling around it. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"You won't hurt me," she said sharply.

"Not for your body, Elena," he replied in kind. "You're young, you've cut everyone out of your life, and you're pregnant. These decisions you're making tonight, the ones you can't even face me to talk about, they'll impact on you. I know they will."

He paced around her bed the long way, a hand dragging over his mouth. She just wanted some head, goddammit. She saw him facing away, not paying her attention, the hard line of his shoulders cutting a contrast against the soft moonlight outside.

She pulled her t-shirt off over her head and threw it at the floor beside his feet. She was down to her panties. Even to her, they smelled of sex. She had no idea what he was thinking, or where his head was at, but she wasn't getting any less desperate with him in the room.

"Just a little help," she muttered. "I can't - ... the belly is in the way of where I need it, up inside -..."

He turned to her slowly, first bowing his head to look at the shirt on the floor, then more fully to her, on the bed, shifting as though she'd downed 3 energy drinks. He paced over with intent, sitting by her on the bed.

"Rule number one," he said pleasantly. "If you say stop, I stop."

She reached for him, and he caught her hand, pressing kisses to her fingers.

"Rule number two," he went on, murmured into her palm. "If I ask it of you, you must also stop."

"Okay," she said, and caught his cheek with her other hand. "Alright. I will."

"Rule number three." He pressed a kiss to her wrist, the beating pulse there. "You must tell me what you want, explicitly. I reserve the right to deny you."

"Kiss me," she said in reply.

He bent over her and pressed the smallest of kisses to her temple, despite the arch of her face and pursed mouth.

"Rule number four." He pressed another to her cheek. Her heart might well as banged out of her chest, hand curling into his hair, the shorter strands that tickled her palm. Viking cleanliness was good for the era, but they hadn't mastered shampoo quite the same as modern day. "If there are any emotions, any at all, that cause you grief, I want you to tell me, the instant you recognize them. We must talk things through; we must remain safe, and whole, with each other."

"It's just sex, Elijah," she mumbled. "Not the end of the world."

"Rule number five," he added, as though she hadn't spoken, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek. He exhaled softly at the drag of her nails in his back. She was finding the familiarity of his body more soothing than the idea of finally having an orgasm. "I value your trust in me too much to break it. Should I feel that this interlude interferes with the nature of that trust, I will not indulge you. We will find another arrangement to keep you satisfied."

She wanted to protest. It wasn't fair that he didn't know how _gone_ on him she was.

"Anything else?" she murmured.

He cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheek.

"You're important to me, Elena," he told her mildly. "The mother of my child. One of the purest, most loving women I have ever known. If there's even a second of doubt in my mind that this goes astray - I shall take the vervain on your throat, and I will compel you to forget it."

She flinched.

She could imagine literally nothing worse, but he was serious, stony, under her fingertips.

It was risky.

She was already in so deep. Would he take it away?

"Why not save yourself the _trouble_?" It was Katherine's nasty voice that floated out of her and she hated it - but that rage didn't make it any _less_ Katherine. "Just do it now. You clearly don't want to touch me; don't stoop so low, just force me to believe it was a dream and walk away. Here, let me."

She yanked the necklace and snapped it clear off, throwing it across the room.

He still held her face, so she pulled away from it, but his hand only went to her throat and rested over her pulse. She was breathing hard to try and appease the heart thrashing around against her lungs but it didn't matter. She pulled up her knees to try and hide her chest, hugging her shins. It wasn't comfortable but it was covering her nakedness, and her raw, bleeding heart.

He didn't want her?

He didn't want her to want him?

There was a long moment of quiet, then his mouth on her cheek again, pressing a soft kiss. She relaxed a fraction, so he did it again, to the corner of her mouth.

She couldn't stop her hands from taking his hair, and her mouth from finally, finally, bringing him in as she opened her knees to drag him up to her. She kissed him hard to counter his soft caress; she swiped at the seam of his lips with her tongue and he was the one who had to grant her passage. She got up on her knees and swiveled around to plant herself squarely in his lap, his hands resting on her waist.

He kissed her, sure, and he was touching her, yes, but he wasn't hard for her.

It broke her heart.

He didn't love her. He didn't want her.

The sheer force of devastation that rolled in her guts made her turn from him, still seated on his lap, press her head against his shoulder and squeeze her eyes shut tight.

No tears.

Stop it.

It's not his fault.

He doesn't know.

"I'm sorry." She shuddered.

He smoothed his palms up over her back, rubbing warm circles against her while she held onto him, and shed the first tear that dripped over his back.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he told her calmly. "Mistakes happen. You're young and alone, Elena. It's natural."

She sniffled, clutched his shoulders harder. That wasn't right. That wasn't it. She let him murmur soothing noises against her throat, hands still tender and comforting. It was nice to have him there, even if he wasn't doing what she wanted him to do.

"You don't understand - I still want you," she said weakly. "You don't know what it's like. All day today, _all day yesterday_ , this - this has been so long, and I can't stop, and it won't go away, but you don't want me..."

He sighed, and she felt the expansion in his chest against hers.

He stood with her legs on his hips and turned to lay her gently on the bed, pressing his mouth to hers. He trailed his kisses down, down, down, and finally stopped at the juncture of her thighs. She could feel his gaze though it was dark.

"The rules," he murmured. "Remember them."

She nodded dumbly.

Her panties were pulled down and over her legs with two confident fingers. He set up camp between her knees, using his shoulders to open her up. She knew she was wet and felt the slick hit by his breath, immediately scrambling to grab something, anything.

"'Lijah," she reached for him, blind, and he gave her a hand. Non-dominant, because the other one was sure to be busy. "Please-"

He pressed a hot kiss to the hinge of her thigh, and then inward, working up to the nerve center of her womanhood. She grabbed his wrist with her free hand, squirming, tilting her hips, trying to get him there now.

"Tell me what you want," he urged.

"Your mouth," she sobbed, arching her back. "On me. Touch me. _Please_."

His hand squeezed hers, and he licked her clit, rubbing his tongue right into the vein, while his fingers barely stroked her opening, testing for give. He was firm, but merciless, lapping into her sex while Elena's throat continued producing somewhat embarrassing noises.

She tried to lock him between her legs - he stopped her with the arm he'd put up for her to hold, digging in a careful elbow to pry open just a few inches more.

She bucked her hips, breathless, head tilted all the way back. He allowed her to link their fingers, allowed her to squeeze his wrist so tight it might've have broken a regular man's. All the while licking away, head bobbing between her legs.

"More," she choked. "Fingers. Inside. Please."

He obliged, tucking his arm beneath himself to get his index finger slid into her nice and quick.

She whined, high and needy, all her noises pouring out of her.

He added another finger, rubbing up and hooking them around, finding that spot that he had always been so fond of. He sort of, got himself ready for the strangulation of her legs around him by lifting his head, stroking her insides, breathing hard. Her thighs closed in on his shoulders instead of his head, and she groaned, head twisting on the pillow, his hand linked in hers dragged up to her mouth.

She kissed his knuckles, each one wet and slightly off-kilter, his fingers within her kneading home on every punctuated thrust. She breathed into their linked fist and found a shard of light on his face, watching her, enraptured.

"Elijah," she said, and took one hand off his wrist, but didn't dare loosen the other on his hand. "Kiss me?"

He moved up on the bed, still stroking inwardly, and obliged the kiss to her mouth. This time they were not so mis-met; she was trembling and soft, while he was sure and simple. No tongue, only lips gently sucking.

She shook off the leg of her underwear and brought up her foot to wiggle against his crotch. It was hardening, still not fully there.

He broke the kiss, gentled it against her jaw, taking his wet hand from her and moving aside her ankle.

"Not tonight," he said softly. "Tonight is about you."

"But I want it."

"If you think you do by the time I feel I'm done here," he said, sounding amused. "I will be very surprised."

"Hmm." She brought him in closer, stole a longer, softer kiss. "That sounds a lot like a challenge, to me."

He smiled against her mouth, and ducked his head to her jaw, pressing more kisses there and down her throat. There was a spot on her neck she gasped at, made him attack with a hint of a bite, hand stroking upwards to knock against her clit.

"Please," she said against the shell of his ear, and felt more than heard his deep exhale. She knew it was testing his patience. Knew it wasn't without limit. "I need you inside me."

He slid his fingers in her again and rubbed true. She found the width of his waist between her knees the most satisfying part about the whole tryst, followed by his kisses. His hands, sure, they were doing the actual pleasuring part, but it was his general width, his weight, his all-encompassing heat, that she missed.

She arched her back, heels in the bed, and nearly dislodged him as ecstasy mounted within her. He chased her, chased the orgasm for her, and swallowed the grateful groan when he coaxed the first clench of her body from her.

Dazed, Elena sort of floated in a pleasant space where the world was nice and soft. Elijah kissed her chest and throat while she drifted, and it made her heart bang funnily in her chest. She managed to lift her arms, draw lines down his firm back, over the t-shirt he was still in, and ran her fingers through his hair, combing it into place.

He settled on his knees with his body still hovering over hers, pressing slow kiss after slow kiss up her jaw, and finally a simple one on her mouth. She kept his head there and lengthened it, alternating between his lips. She may or may not have dug her teeth into the swell of his lower lip, which caused an audible reaction.

"Did you just growl at me?" She batted her lashes.

"I did," he said coolly, and leaned back. He cupped her face, stroked her flushed temples.

"I kinda liked it," she admitted sheepishly. "Can I get another one?"

"If you're very, very good," he said lightly, and kissed her once more.

Elena had no designs on being good. She reached down and grabbed the hard length in his pajamas.

"Elena," he said gently, and took her wrist. She gave his cock a hopeful squeeze through his pants but he guided her hand up, into the pillow, leaning over her once more. "Not tonight."

"Why? I got mine. You should at least get yours."

"Don't concern yourself over me," he said patiently. "There are many worse things than being unspent."

"Yeah, like being with such a gross human that you don't want to," she muttered, forgetting momentarily that not only would he hear her, he'd take it personally. His face changed to narrow eyed in the literal blink of an eye. "Wait, I didn't mean that."

"You didn't mean it, or did you not mean for me to hear it?"

"That - that isn't the point. It's - look, it's fine, I just wish you had've said something before I made you -"

"It isn't that I don't desire you." He settled between her thighs, proving the sentiment with his body nursed right up against her. "I do."

She hummed low, still sensitive, still willing, but took hold of his hair in her hands and shut up. She traced the lines of his high cheekbones with her thumbs. Her ankles unconsciously crossed behind him, so familiar with this position.

"Why don't you want to... do this, with me?" she said carefully. "Is it about the baby?"

He kissed the inside of her wrist.

"There may be a degree of worry," he said softly. "I know it's safe within my mind, but only time will tell what transpires. We are still new to each other, Elena. We still have time. There will be time yet to... explore, hm?"

She wasn't satisfied. Like, the kitty, _that_ was satisfied (even if she could go again, it didn't matter, because he was real and solid and there and she didn't want to tempt him to remove himself.) But his excuse wasn't real. She could hear it in his voice.

"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" she said softly, stroking his hair. If he read it as Katherine or Tatia, it made no difference.

He was quiet for a long time, and that was answer enough. So long was his silence, in fact, that she was getting uncomfortable being on her back - and her sex was sticky with slick and she was starting to catch a chill again.

"I need a shower," she muttered, and let his hair slide between her fingers so he could climb off the bed. She flicked the bedside lamp on and couldn't quite look him in the eye as she gathered a pair of shorts and underwear, and the shirt she'd tossed to the floor.

Except she couldn't pick it up off the floor, because Elijah was there, already handing it to her.

"Am I ever going to bend again?" she said with good humor, taking the shirt.

"Not for the next five months, no," he replied with a small smile.

She hugged her clothes to her chest. It might've just been a trick of the light, but seeing him in bed gear with a hard on, that was doing _things_ to her. She wet her lip and felt her sex drive sit up.

"I'm gonna jump you," she said quietly, and flicked her eyes downwards. "If you don't take _that_ and get out."

"I had you pinned for a cuddler," he said, amused.

"The only kind of cuddling I can think of right now is the kind that gets me somehow more pregnant," she retorted, and forgot that he wasn't quite her Elijah, who knew her crass wit and teasing. She blinked at him owlishly. "Sorry."

He was smiling though, looking cheeky.

"If you need me," he said, coming over to take her neck in both hands, bow her head to press a kiss to her sweaty hairline. "Call."

She shut her eyes and let him walk away, shutting the door behind him. The red numbers said : _3:28am, bitch, go get rid of your sex juices and hope you can fall asleep now!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews feed the author


	7. Complications

"Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," she replied, and then followed it with: "Do we need to talk about the doppelgänger bloodline?"

He stilled getting the fruit ready, a knife midway through an apple.

"I will reach out to my contacts."

"No you _won't_ ," she said sharply, and demanded his attention with the tone of her voice.

He turned slowly, putting the knife down. His dark eyes considered her, unblinking, why she took so strong a stance against it.

"You think someone will piece together you being pregnant?"

"Astute anticipation," she drawled, and walking around the bench to put toast into the toaster. She waited with her back to him for a long second, staring mindlessly into the heating prongs of the device, then checked he was still staring.

He was.

She sighed.

"If I do not out source I have no more answers for our child's bloodline then you. What did you expect us to talk about, if not that?" he wanted to know amiably.

She sucked on her tongue, chewing it, unsure of whether or not she needed to speak.

"That depends," she said quietly. "On how against the idea of you turning our son into a vampire, one day."

He dropped the knife.

Oh, so not really?

"Elena," he said dully. "You cannot be serious."

"Can, am, will be." She leaned her hip onto the bench. "I've thought about this for months. When I found out initially. I thought that I would have to get someone to turn him eventually, stop the Petrova line. Stop it all before it happens."

"So you'd have me take our son's life from him," he said in soft, dangerous summary. "Because you think he can't be kept safe?"

"Maybe it won't be him, Elijah, that we need to be keeping safe." She arched a brow. "Did you think about what happens when he falls in love? If he falls in love with a woman he's gonna get her pregnant. And then it's him, his wife, and their child - our _grandchild_ \- that are in the fold. How many years are you going to take to keep anyone from figuring out that some of the most relevant blood in history is still in play?"

"All of them," he quipped. "All of my years. I do not take this lightly, Elena. I understand family as well as you do. But best we let him have the dignity of his choice rather than force upon him an eternity without first understanding who he is."

She glared at him.

"Wait, is that a shot at me? Do you think I wasn't going to have that conversation with him? That I was somehow magically going to make you kill our son?" She heard the toast pop. Didn't feel like it anymore, but her hand automatically reached back to shove it back into the machine for something to do. "I mean, I know I've barely scraped the top of your crazy family history, but this is my son, and I'm _not_ Klaus."

He grit his teeth, and very determinedly turned himself back around and started to slice into the fruit again.

"What made you think of this?" he said, and she knew his patience was tested.

She didn't want to talk about it.

"And what, you're just going to wait until you see the next reincarnation of lovely Katherine or precious Tatia and fragile little Elena and then what? If it's a hundred years, if it's five hundred years, if it's eight hundred down the line, you're going to see it through all the way?"

"Yes."

"You don't know that," she shot. "You can't possibly be around a branching family tree, track it close enough through all the years-"

"I can," he assured her, deadly calm while the knife bit through the fruit and snapped against the chopping board. "And I will. Your toast is burning."

He was being far too calm for her to pick a fight with him. She stormed around him, feeling her hair whip behind her head, and went to her room. For good measure, she locked the door behind her, and knew he'd hear it.

Stop _crying_. Fucking hormones. She scrubbed her face and sat on the end of her bed, shaky but not sure why. She was angry, palpably so, but it had just spiraled out of control.

Elijah was only being testy because she asked him to kill his only son. Of course, in her brain, she knew that. But couldn't he see what needed to be done? To cut the Petrova line off, to protect his heart?

She hated that Toby might live a life drenched in blood, but honestly? At least he was living it.

* * *

She'd dreamt, of course. Her little boy growing up to look like a Jeremy-Elijah hybrid, though she'd never truly seen her son's face as a whole, only details like his soft dark hair and puppy eyes, his dimpled cheek and strong jaw. She imagined him, tall and proud, beaming, bringing home a girl, sweet and soft and blonde, and then Elijah having to pull her heart out because she was pregnant.

She sobbed. Whoops. That was supposed to stay _inside_.

"Elena," he said at her door. He didn't knock, or try the handle.

In lieu of explaining, she said:

"Please don't kill his girlfriends."

There was a pause.

"Open the door, please," he said mildly.

"I know it's stupid, but please just say you're not gonna kill his girlfriends," she said. "I know he's in utero, okay, and that girlfriends are a long way off, but I just need to hear it. Promise."

"I promise."

She sniffed hard, scrubbed her eyes.

"And boyfriends," she demanded. "Don't kill those, either."

"What if they hurt his feelings?" came the voice under the door.

She snorted to spite her mood.

"Maybe. We'll burn that bridge when we get to it."

"Amendments must be made," he agreed. "Now, will you unlock the door?"

"These fucking hormones," she muttered, going to the door to open it only a fraction. She stared at him through the crack, defiant. "What, you're going to apologize now because the stupid baby brain is making me cry? You know I'm not falling apart, in here, I'm just -"

He raised both brows at her, and made her tirade much, much shorter than she felt it was due to be. He leaned too casually on the doorframe, not yet in her space, only appearing as much as she let him.

She wiped her tears again.

"I can't speak for our son as yet," he said coolly. "I don't know if, when he grows, he will find love with anyone, let alone want to have babies. I wish he does. There has been no greater joy in my life, than hearing you tell me that I was going to be a father. Not only can I not fathom denying him the right, I can't pretend I am not entertaining the notion of one day being a grandfather."

She was already crying, but that kicked it off pretty solidly. She pressed her hand to her eyes and hung her head.

"Elijah, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Come here." He toed open the door and stepped into her space, leading with his chest to catch her head as it butted against him. His arms were like towers around her - her and their baby - and he set his cheek to her head, waiting. "You've been in your head about this for too long."

She started shaking her head, trying to cut the mushy stuff short, but unlike the Elijah who had been so cautious of her willfulness in his native era, this one was a little more well-read, and wouldn't let her out of his arms.

"No, Elijah, let me go," she sobbed, batting weakly at his back. "I don't _want_ to cry about this, any more, I _know_ I'm being stupid-"

"You are not," he told her softly. "You will cry because our son is not even born, and we already fear his pain and his death. You will cry because it should never have been this hard for either one of us. You will cry because this isn't entirely fair, though it's a miracle. Cry, Elena, because it's human. Because I am here, and I will hold you until you feel better."

She clutched at his shoulders and nearly managed to stop, right up until he kissed the top of her head so tenderly, and started a new wave of sobbing. What a _dick_. Didn't he know yet that kindness would make her cry?!

"I'm here," he promised her. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm getting _tears_ ," she said desperately, giving one more tiny shove. "All over your shirt-"

"I have more shirts." Another kiss, this one softer, brushed against her temple. "I only have one of you."

* * *

Eventually, she made Elijah leave so she could shower and try and compose herself. He suggested a list of things he could make for dinner and she picked one at random, even though she hadn't heard him and wasn't interested in food.

It wasn't his smoothest move, to catch her in the dark mood she was in. Maybe he'd anticipated that she would be more exhausted, and wouldn't fight him on the issue.

"I answered one of Klaus' calls, today," he said over dinner. "I need to talk to you about living with him."

"No."

"Let me explain." He set his fork and knife down, and linked his fingers together. "My brother has been cruel to you, your friends, your family, and even his own family, but there is a change in him."

"I'm not doing it," she said, and ate another bite of the meat, which was honestly so damn good she wasn't going to stop, not even if she took the plate and went to her room.

"He's a father," he said clearly.

Woah, what?

"Are you being funny?" she raised her eyebrows.

"If I were, I'd think you should've laughed." He studied her across the table. "I'm an uncle. A little girl. Hope, they called her."

"It's convenient, Elijah," she said, incredulous. "Too convenient."

"I'm aware it sounds ridiculous, but apparently over the centuries, my brother never once slept with a born werewolf. That part of him can reproduce, and so he has reproduced. The stakes cannot get any higher to protect those within the walls." He took his wine, had a long sip. She suspected there was blood in it, because it stained the glass. "It's the safest place for us. All of us."

"I'm not doing it," she said again, a little harder.

"Consider that I am the only person on this earth aside from you who knows that Toby is mine," he said calmly. "Consider that I am one of the only people to know that Klaus' own child is alive and thriving. Klaus will keep our secret, or I will out his in equal measure."

"Oh, great, Tobias Mikealson not even born a day, already used as a bargaining chip," she said, and put her cutlery down. She was still hungry, but she needed to focus. "What a great start to what I'm sure is a long, peaceful, happy life."

His lips thinned.

"You think Klaus will do our boy some irreparable harm," he said lowly. "You imply I would let it happen."

"When we met, you were convinced you wanted your brother dead," she said flatly. "And you were actively trying to kill him. What the difference between that and being so sure that he won't hurt Toby?"

"This is different," he said. "Because my son is at risk."

"Then don't ask me," she picked up her fork and knife. "To put him in a position where he's at _risk_. He's not at risk here. No one knows who we are or where we've gone. Let’s keep it that way."

"He needs me, Elena," he said, his patience thin. "My niece needs me. I can't protect all of you at once from such a distance."

"Then you go," she said, slicing into her dinner. "Leave us here. We'll be fine."

"If anything should happen while I'm away, I will never forgive myself," he said simply.

"And what might happen?"

"I don't want to tempt fate by mentioning the things that worry me," he said simply. "Suffice it to say I worry that you are only human, and fragile."

"That's fine. But that would be another reason why I still won't ever be living with Klaus," she said again, just in case he didn't catch it the first two times. "And he's not ever going to know about Toby."

"That isn't fair of you, to ask it of me, knowing now that Klaus is a father himself and has put his trust in me to keep his secret," he pointed out. "He's my brother."

"Okay," she said, and finished her meat. She took the glass of water as she stood, the chair dragging hard and loud against the wooden floors. "So if that's how you feel, that's how you feel, and I'll just be going now."

"Going _where_?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

Uh oh.

"Wherever the next bus gets me," she said evenly. "Because I walked away from my friends, and my family, including _my brother_ , on the off chance that _your enemies_ would use my son against you. I walked away from them, and I _will_ walk away from you. So this was nice, while it lasted-"

"Sit down," he said softly.

"No." She lifted her chin at him.

He breathed in, long and deep, and kept her fierce stare, matching it head on with his own much more dangerous one.

Elena didn't care. Mikeal had been more of a threat to her, and his was the face Elijah had copied.

"I'm not gambling on Klaus," she said flatly. "Not with Toby."

"Nor am I," he agreed, and bowed his head. "Can we find a compromise, Elena?"

"Compromise like what? I'll live with Klaus and he'll never know who the father is? That wouldn't protect Toby. He'd use him like a pawn the second I dared defy him, or didn't give him my blood for whatever stupid war related purpose he needed it for. And even if you swore to me he wouldn't, he would mention it to Caroline, or to Stefan, and if they ever put the pieces together, we are back at square one."

"That's not what I said."

"So what's your idea of a compromise, then?"

"I'm suggesting that you live in New Orleans with our son," he said. "But not with Klaus. Elsewhere, but close by. He doesn't have to know, of course, you're right in that he would likely use _your_ child to twist the knife into a number of precarious situations. But _my_ child, he would never. So if we were to tell him-"

She picked up her plate.

"I'll think about it," she said primly, and walked out.

* * *

She didn't think about it, because she couldn't stop thinking about _him_.

"Elijah," she said into the darkness, writhing on the lonely bed.

There was no urgency in the pad of his feet against the floor, of his weight on the mattress, or his careful hand as it brushed over her stomach. He bent over her and pressed kisses along her belly, up to her breasts, which were full and heavy and sore.

She flinched, grabbed his head between gentle hands.

"Very," she said through her teeth. "Very, sore."

"I'll be careful," he promised her, and continued to plant tiny presses of his lips on her collarbone. He found a good spot on her throat and she sighed, easing underneath him, one hand dragging lazily over his shoulder, grabbing a fistful of his shirt to pull it off.

He sat back to get rid of the clothing, letting her hands explore the panes of his chest.

"Are you going to sleep with me properly?" she murmured.

"Not tonight," he said, rubbing her stomach with his knuckles.

She wanted to cry, but she'd had enough of that. She'd had enough of the torturous distance that they were maintaining between them. Him, because he was so worried she'd walk out if he misstepped, and her, because she was absolutely head over heels in love with the man he had been a thousand years ago.

"Elijah," she said softly, and opened her legs for him to settle between, keeping his weight on either side of her head on his hands. "Why don't you want me?"

"I do."

"Then why won't you _have_ me?"

"It's not right," he tried to explain, then lowered to kiss her temple, her cheek and jaw. "You're vulnerable, and I'm the only available person to you."

_Stupid bloody noble prick of a man_ , said Rebekah's seething voice in her head, undercut by the warmth in which it was spoken.

"If you don't want to be here-"

"I do."

"But you don't want to touch me?"

"I want to touch you." He sucked a soft bruise against her throat, and she couldn't help tighten her legs and arms around him with a low groan. "I just won't sleep with you. Not tonight."

"Are you sure?" she whimpered.

He couldn't disguise his chuckle against her throat. She was glad he tried though, because if he had've been looking her in the eye, he would've seen the tears. It wasn't fair that he thought it was funny. She was a pathetic mess and he got a laugh out of it.

"Elena," he said warmly. "I would give you the moon if you mentioned it might please you. It's not exactly a trouble of mine to bring you pleasure."

"It's- it's fine." Her voice was shaky. "You don't have to. You can go. Just - just don't listen when I-..."

"If you want me to leave," he murmured, suddenly sucking light kisses between the valley of her breasts. "You need only ask it of me. But if you want me to stay, if you want me to serve you... Ask me."

She gulped, hands going up to her face to wipe her tears back into her hair. She would never blame a vampire again for their impulse control, not ever. She was only hormonal - and transitioning made a person even more reliant on their mood? No thanks.

"I need you to touch me," she breathed to the ceiling, hiding behind her palms. "Please help me come." 

She pulled him up and claimed a hard kiss, licking into his mouth a mere second before his hand was cupped between her legs and she had to cut it short to hiccup on a breathy: _oh!_

"You're wet," he said, in wonder, and pulled aside her underwear to confirm, the slick so juicy that he slid all the way up and bumped her swollen clit by accident. " _Elena._ "

"I know," she muttered, and was already clenching subconsciously, trying to drag him into her. "Trust me, I know. It's been all day. I need you. Please help me come."

He did.

Twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews feed the author


	8. A Date

"Hey," she said, after knocking on the office door. She peered around it, feeling strangely like she was in trouble, even though she had approached him. "Uhm, I had a question."

He lowered the screen on his laptop, getting to his feet.

"You don't have to knock," he said, his smile wry. "Come in."

"I do have to knock. It's polite, and it's the only space you have," she muttered, easing open the door. Her hand braced her stomach.

"I have my room," he said coolly. He came around the desk in his black suit, with the steel grey shirt, and the dark purple tie, and she got distracted by the fit of it around his thighs. It just pulled so nicely in his stride. Damn. "I never thought I'd be on the receiving end, truth be told."

"Hm?" she flicked her attention up to an incredibly smug smirk.

"Of being looked at," he clarified, his grin slowly growing. "Like I'm about to be eaten alive."

"Oh," she swallowed. There was no point in denying it. "Yeah, I-... There have been some, uh, cravings, this morning."

"Oh?" He leaned his backside on the desk. "You keep mentioning you suffer during the day with your cravings. I was wondering if you'd ever ask me with the lights on."

She didn't hear him. She was busy considering the desk. It looked sturdy enough to be laid out flat on, and those legs could hold decent rope. Hell, she'd bet her every remaining cent that it could be a square inch wide and the Elijah of old would've found a way to fuck her against it.

"Elena," he said, gently rousing her from a dangerously sexy haze. "You had a question?"

"Yes," she blinked, and sort of woke herself up. "I had a – I’ve been dreaming. About old gods and… well I just – I had this dream and someone mentioned that we should probably… I was going to ask you, but - would you like to go on a date with me?"

His brow arched.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well," she got distracted by the shift in his stance. "I... we've gone about this whole... business... in a weird order. Meet, death, pregnancy, sex. So why not just add a little more confusion to the mix? I mean - practically, I would like to get out of the house. But it would be good, too, to not be so preoccupied by... not happy things. I want to be happy. And I want you to be happy. And I think it'd be good. Thoughts?"

He beamed.

"Yes," he said. "I'd like that."

"Oh good," she replied. "You're going to have to pay."

He laughed, ducking his head.

"When shall we go?"

"Later? If you're not busy?"

"Done." He lifted his still smiling face up to her. "I'll pick you up at six?"

* * *

Elena was more than ready by six. She opened the door at the mere whisper of his movement outside of it, already smiling, unable to stop.

He had a hand up ready to knock, and the slow drag of his eye down her dress was enough to kick off the hormones that had been warded away with a cool shower. He was dressed in a slate grey suit with a black vest, starch white collar.

Delicious.

She was still distracted by it when they made it to the restaurant, her eyes heavy and focused on the way he moved. God, she really did want to bite into him. She wanted him to growl, like an animal, for her. She wanted her to feel just a fraction of what she was feeling, let her know that she wasn't just a vessel for his son.

She was all things flirty and playful, right up until the waitress gave him the same _look_ that she'd been wearing all night.

Then her temper flipped.

She glared at the woman who touched his shoulder with a laugh at something that wasn't even funny.

Narrowed her eyes when she made mention of how handsome he was in a suit.

Then there was the low, pleased hum, when he ordered the wine with a French inflection.

And then the kicker.

"I sure do love a man who knows what he wants," the waitress cooed. "It's so nice to see a guy taking his sister out for dinner."

Elena slammed her hand down onto the table and made sure that everyone in the vicinity was looking at her.

"Listen, bitch," she said flatly, and watched her victim's eyes open to show all the whites. "You know full fucking _well_ I'm not his sister. Do you think you're getting away with this?”

She didn't wait for an answer, though that was stuttered and half made as she steamrolled over it.

"I'll have the 16oz steak well done, no onion, no garlic, and if there's vinegar on my salad I'll burn this fucker to the ground. If you so much as _blink_ in his direction again, I'm gonna take this steak knife and do the world a favor when I jab it into your cheap lash extensions. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"You can't-" the waitress started.

"Yes I can," she said darkly. "And I'll _enjoy_ it."

Elijah's eyebrows were hiked.

When the waitress dared look at him, his pupils quivered.

"Every word she just said," he said smoothly. "Is the truth. Don't fuck it up."

"I won't," she breathed, and then hurried away.

Elena sat back in her seat, boiling in her rage, scowling across the table at him.

"I never took you for jealous," he said mildly.

"I'm not jealous." She was a liar, and he knew it. "She can't just come in and flirt with someone else's man. Not that you're my man. But she doesn't know that!"

"Of course," he said easily. "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

* * *

Elena didn't know what happened, exactly, when they got home.

Something about the events of the night, the surge of protectiveness when that _bitch_ had implied that they weren't together, coupled with his suit when he when he removed the tie.

But she was obsessed with it, and only a small, guilty: "Elijah?" from her had his hand down her underwear and his body pressed fully to her back.

He braced them both on the counter, fingers rubbing in a merciless circle, while she bucked and gasped and held onto his forearm like she could die without him.

He sucked a dark kiss on her throat, and when she jerked back her hips, caught him hard and heavy behind her.

"Please," she said, tilting her head to his shoulder. "I need it."

"Not tonight," he murmured.

" _Please_ ," she said again, groaning. "You don't understand."

"Elena," he tried patiently. "I'm not going to take advantage of you. I believe there was a rule about pushing our boundaries."

Luckily, she was facing away from him, and could double over and hide her falling tears as a shaky moan as he started to strum her more efficiently, side to side. She put her elbows up to brace against the counter, effectively pressing her full ass against his trousers to hear his grunt.

"Compromise. Come on me if you have to," she panted, gyrating against him. "Just let me know you can enjoy me."

His free hand dug into her hip, then went to her chest and brought her up into standing. He turned her face to taste the tears threatening to fall from her chin with the very tip of his tongue.

"Why are you crying?" he said against her cheek.

"Because you're not _listening_ to me," she blurted on a desperate breath out, and caught his arm in her hands, digging her nails in. "I want you, Elijah, I want all of you. Not because you're my last resort. I care about you, I _trust_ you, and I want to make you feel good. You don't believe me when I tell you that you don't understand - and you aren't just a donor, alright? You're not just the sugar daddy I was forced to come to. You're important to me, and you don't _want_ me and I'm so embarrassed to have to keep asking you to help me get off, and that _stupid bitch_ put her hand on you and you looked at her like you'd prefer _her_ instead..."

He pressed his head to hers, his thumb tapping on her chest in what she suspected was the echo of her heart. He kissed the top of her shoulder, and with his tricky, clever hand, delved deeper into her underwear and dipped into her dripping sex.

The slick noises were mortifying, really. She could tell by the feel of cold air how wet she was, and all he had done before he'd started to play was not wear a tie and get hit on by another woman. It was pathetic.

She was pathetic.

The only thing that saved her from shoving him away from her and attempting to finish herself off solo was the sound of a belt buckle and a zip. One handedly, he pulled down the back of her underwear and moved his hand back up to her clit, pressing the blunt tip of himself against her.

Elena's mouth was open, because she was suddenly having trouble breathing.

" _'Lijah_ ," she panted, ready, trembling.

He made a primal noise, and waited. Considering, she could feel him, thinking, thinking, thinking.

"I care about you," he told the back of her head. "I care about how you feel. I've been listening. But have you listened to me?"

He moved his thick cock up and bumped her clit with it, and she nearly fell over, having to bend and brace once more against the counter, filling his lap with her ass. She couldn't even breathe, let alone remember what question he'd just asked her.

"You're important to me," she said, in lieu of answering his actual question.

There was a pause.

"The second this gets out of hand," he said, bending over to kiss the back of her neck. "The second that your feelings are complicated-"

"You want me to _forget!_ " she cried out. "God, I don't want to forget you, I never want to forget you, that's not fair and _don't you dare make me_!"

"I don't want you to forget me," he chided, and stroked her clit as though he was consoling it. There there, poor thing. She shook back against him and the head of him caught her rim, causing her to whine high and needy in her throat. "I want to look after you. You're important to me, too."

"Please," she heaved for breath. "Please. _Please_. I need you. I need you to enjoy me. I need you to be with me. To be in me. Please, Elijah, please, I need -" She rocked back as he moved forward, and the second he was in her, she fucking _flew apart_.

He had to grab her to stop her from falling while her knees went, she rolled her body a stimulated herself on the inside, begging without mind to what was coming out of her mouth. He had to haul her up with his hand flat on her chest, sucking kisses against her throat, waiting for the high to subside.

She grabbed the hand on her hip and linked their fingers, unable to formulate enough words to explain the rightness of having him back in her. He kissed everywhere he could, still rocking gently, and she felt the threat of another orgasm being coaxed out of her.

But she wanted a growl from him. He'd said she'd get one if she was good. Well. She could be good.

She unhitched from him and turned, jumping so that he caught her, legs around his hips.

"Couch," she said shortly, and he carried her.

Her thighs were locked so tightly around his waist that it felt like a prelude to bruising, even if his hands supported her ass. The last time they'd done it standing, it hadn't been for long - his finishing had taken the strength from his knees and they'd ended up in the mud, which at the time had seemed funny, but was very hard to explain away neatly. 

He turned as though to lay her down. She shook her head.

"I want to be on top," she told him, bluntly. "I like it up here. I like to see your face. I want to know what it looks like when you come."

"Oh my, Miss Gilbert," he said, smiling wickedly as he took a seat, taking great care to organize her legs around his hips. "If I had pearls, I would clutch them."

"Your rules," she reminded him, still a little shaky after the first orgasm, shoving his trousers back further down his legs. "Dictate that I must be explicit when I tell you what I want."

"Go on," he urged. "Tell me."

"I want," she leaned over him, hair swinging down to curtain them from the world, hitching back her hips. "Another growl, Mr. Mikealson."

She shoved aside his blazer and pulled it off as if it were on fire, turning the silk lined sleeves inside out. She threw it behind him as though it had personally offended her. The vest buttons were wider and unhitched with a sharp tug.

"And I want this shirt off," she demanded. "How fond of it are you?"

"Moderately."

"I want to rip it off," she informed him.

He shrugged.

"Not that moderately."

She took it by the collar in two handfuls and yanked it straight down the middle, baring his chest to her. The buttons popped off pretty much out to one side and rained on the floor, but two definitely pinged off of the top of her thigh and stomach. It took no time at all to press her mouth to the thatch of hair between his pecs, let the shirt go and get her hands on his hot skin beneath.

Her hands stroked brazenly down his sides, feeling with her fingers what the insides of her thighs knew so well. He was broad, and thick, and blisteringly warm to touch.

She barely impressed her teeth on his collar bone to earn her growl.

"I should warn you," he murmured, stroking her hair from her head and shoulders as she more or less explored the top part of his chest. "Biting does elicit a rather strong reaction from me."

"I'd hoped so." She sank her teeth into the meaty part of his chest and suddenly his kind hands was taking fistfuls of her hair to steer her up, breathing unsteady, hands clutching at the sides of his ripped shirt. It hurt so good, and she moved back to ride the shaft of his cock, squeezing him with her thighs while he slid between her folds.

"Those rules, Miss Gilbert," he said, a smile curling his dampened lips. "About transparency. Do you want me to be rough with you?"

"Yes." She swallowed, having to look at him from under her lashes because he had pulled her hair to have her neck arched to him. "Please, Mr. Mikealson, if you don't mind."

"Ordinarily..." He let her hair slide through his fingers, rub down the length of her back, and grab two handfuls of her ass. "I wouldn't object."

"But?"

"But." He nodded, and gave her ass a solid smack that made her jerk against him, hands shooting up to claw on his shoulders. "That may need to be a conversation for a clearer head."

She licked her lips.

"Yes," she said, softly.

"I thought I'd have more an argument," he admitted, and slid his hands up to frame her waist.

"I'm not that patient," she explained, before catching his length in her rocking body and angling just _so_.

He slid home, and knocked something around inside her that made her groan lowly, tipping her head back. She rocked up and hard down again, twisting once he was fully in her, the short hairs around his member causing dangerous friction.

Elijah held on for the ride, panting for air, almost dazed by the time she next looked at his face. His eyes were glassy and mouth slack, but the intensity of his stare told her he was one hundred per cent focused only on her.

His hair was too neat, so she ran her fingers through it, dragging away the clear part and pressing short kisses to his brow and temple as she went about rolling her body like something out of a music video.

Her teeth grabbed his lobe and he growled once more.

"You," he warned. "Are playing with fire."

"Burn me," she challenged, and felt his exhale of laughter as she linked her fingers behind his neck and leaned in his lap to get a look at her handiwork.

He was close. Evidenced by the flare of red in his throat and chest, the flush filling up the high points of his cheeks. His hands were trying to still her hips, and he was breathing long and deep, his own hips tilting incrementally every time she sat fully on him.

"When you come," she panted. "Will you do it in me? That's where I want it. I want to be full with it. It's not like you can get me any more pregnant-"

"Elena," he said, grabbing a handful of her hair and giving it a not so sharp tug. "Elena, a moment."

"Hmm?" she chewed her lip, then changed the way she was moving, which made a muscle in his jaw jump. Instead of up and down, she sat solidly against his thighs and started rolling back and forward, hands screwed in the shirt open on his shoulders. "Don't you want to come in me? I want it. I want it dripping -"

"Elena, I must ask you to _be still_ , a moment." He put both hands on her hips, and stilled her against her will, earning a soft groan from her. "Just a moment."

"Just a moment," she agreed, and reached behind her to grab his belt buckle and tug it roughly through the loops. It was solid enough to have a viable weight in her hands, as it slid around the waist of his trousers - even as he partially sat on them.

"What are you doing?" he wondered, still caging her hips.

"I'll wait," she said simply, and fed the tongue through the loop of the buckle. She raised eyebrows at him after a few seconds of watching his glittering eyes trace the way she handled the length of leather.

"What," he said, and his voice was so low it practically vibrated through him. "Are you doing?"

"Hands," she said simply, and opened the loop for him.

He licked his lip with the very tip of his tongue.

"You want to restrain me?"

"Your hands," she said as calmly as she could, trying to rock against him and being stilted in her attempt. "Are keeping me from having my second orgasm, and wringing your first one out of you."

"My first?" he repeated politely, fluttering his lashes.

"Yes, your first. I plan for at least another one."

He tilted his head back on the couch, getting his breathing under control. His hands slid over to the tops of her thighs.

"Do you, now?" he said lightly. "Two of mine?"

"At least."

"And do I dare ask how many of yours you plan for, Miss Gilbert?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll surprise me, Mr. Mikealson," she said sweetly.

His smile was slow, predatory.

"You haven't been looked after," he said dryly. "I've been letting you down, these past nights, with just the few."

"To be fair to you..." She ran a hand up from his belly button up to the center of his chest. His heart was beating strong and true beneath her palm. "They are very good."

"And yet you plan for more," he said, perfectly amiable. His fingers were rolling in sweet circles on her thighs, thumbs dipping into near dangerous territory. "Which means you are due many more that I've kept you from."

She should've known, really, that he was going to take it as a personal slight against his abilities to keep her kitty pleased, when she mentioned that she'd been willing for more in their previous trysts. She also should've known that, at the threat of someone being restrained, it was _never_ going to be him.

He had her arms in the loop at the small of her back before she even realized he was moving her around, and his thumb on her clit.

"Do say _mercy_ ," he said against her collar bone. "When you've had enough."

If she was able to form coherent words, maybe one of them might've been 'mercy'. As it was, all the sound out of her throat was of the embarrassingly loud, breathy variety.

She clamped her knees shut somewhere in his rib cage when she came, trying to block his hand with the squeeze of her legs. It didn't work, and she convulsed, gasping, doubling over to plant her forehead against his shoulder and shove herself back.

"Another?" he cooed. "Can you give me another?"

Her sweaty hands slid out of his belt and went straight to his wrist, trying to pry his thumb out of her clit. He eased off, but pressed intermittently to drag out the aftershocks, eyes lazy and half lidded on her face while she spasmed in his lap.

"'Lijah-" she whimpered, trying to rock her hips back. He wrapped his other arm around her, kept her grounded firmly, right up against his pelvis. "'Lijah, _please_ -"

"Mercy?" he wanted to know, and tapped her clit.

She bit her lips to stifle a wayward cry, and leaned back with a half a sob in her throat, not willing to beg or give in but right on the cusp of doing both.

"I don't want to stop," she told the ceiling. "I've waited too long for you to be in me, please don't stop, but please - just - it's so-"

He followed her lean and sucked on the ridge of her collarbone, hand sliding out between them to cup the back of her head.

She tilted where he put her, receiving a soft kiss on her chewed lip. She hummed, putting her arms tightly around his shoulders, loosening her knees a fraction. Attached to his mouth, she felt his smile more than saw it, and felt the flex of him still seated within her.

Good.

Her eyes went between his, checking off the far too pleased slant of his mouth and the ultimately in control shutter of his lids. She pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his eye, and felt his lashes brush against her chin; then stopped, even if she wanted to press those tiny sweet kisses on all the parts of his handsome face that she could reach, post second orgasm hazy and waiting for the motivation to move.

She couldn't kiss him like that, when she'd kissed him like that before. In time, when they had been lovers with real feelings between them, and not manufactured because of a baby.

Ducking her temple to his shoulder, she breathed out hot air against his throat.

"I still don't like that she touched you," she whispered. "And I want your come in me."

He stroked her hair down her back.

"You're insatiable."

"Do you want me to beg?" She licked her lips, so close to his skin that her tongue tipped against his pulse. He flexed his hands on her backside, shifting on the couch, thighs tensing under her. "Will you give it to me hard? I don't mind bruises."

"Elena..." He rubbed up her back. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Will you let me take it, then?" She kissed his throat, sucked his pulse. "Will you let me ride you until you fill me up?"

His adam's apple bobbed under her lips.

"You didn't tell me not to beg," she reminded him softly, and wiggled, somehow making her lazy body sit upright between his arms. She stared at his mouth, and rolled her body on him. "Please? Please come in me, Elijah. I want it dripping out of me. I want you filling me up, all the way up inside."

He tilted his head back on the couch, hands gripping her hips but never stopping her. He was already breathing deeply, eyes on her face, jaw clenched.

"I want you there," she told him, going as far as to bat her lashes at him. "Don't you want to come in me?"

"You," he said quietly, widening his legs, effectively spreading her out to his infatuated gaze. He put his thumbs down into the valley between her legs and opened her up, the wetness of them becoming more audible the more she rocked. "Are a surprise."

"Why?" she tilted her head at him, rolled her body, accidentally knocked her too-sensitive clit on his thumb and spasmed with a gasp, jerking both into and away from the sensations. "Elijah, _'Lijah_ , please-"

The second she lost that minor control, she felt the change in him - his thumb as it slid up to press high against the nerve leading to her clit. She jolted, shot a hand down to try and move it, get him to stop or to keep going she wasn't sure. It didn't matter because he strummed her like a guitar and got a series of aborted, desperate, squirming thrusts that set him off.

He jackhammered up into her, grunting as she bounced on the seat of his legs, and came baring his teeth. He was sweating, beads of it on his hairline and pooling into a crystalline drop in the center of his chest. When he finally stopped jerking, she leaned in to suck it up, kissing the bang of his heart while he dragged her hair back away from her face, holding it in a single fist at the back of her neck.

"That," he said, eyes glittering as he steered her head up. "Wasn't fair."

"Why?" she said, innocently.

He licked his lips.

"I wasn't ready."

"What did I do?" She knew damn full well it was the jerky, desperate movements of her body. Restraints, rough play, begging and watching her come were all things that she knew were his undoing, and she'd done them.

"You took one from me," he drawled, and used the fistful of her hair to steer her head to the side. He dragged her forward, and licked a broad stripe up the side of her neck. Once at her ear, the feel of his teeth threatening her lobe made her shiver. "That was rude, Miss Gilbert."

"That was the point, Mr. Mikealson," she teased, and lifted from him, allowing him to drop out of her, followed by a thick string of their combined come. She hummed, and sat back on his legs, feeling pleased with the mess beginning to leak out of her. She leaned back so she could study his face, but not too far, because his hand in her hair tightened.

"The point was to be rude?" He tutted. "No. The point was to enjoy each other. And now I'm finished, and you're spilling onto my _lovely_ couch." He narrowed his eyes a fraction at her, and she didn't bat an eye at him.

"I'm so sorry," she cooed, and stroked his chest, up through the sweat. "I'll clean it up right away. With my tongue?"

He bared his teeth in a smile that promised some terrible, wonderful things.

"Five," he said decisively.

"Five?" she repeated.

"Yes, I think five will do," he mused, and pulled her head down to steal a kiss from her mouth. He let her settle into it, soft lips and tongues, before tugging her hair back to look at her face, free hand curling around her hip to grab a handful of her ass. "I'll be ready again before we get anywhere near five. Lucky you."

"Five..." she blinked. "Five _orgasms_?"

"Surprise." He winked, and flipped her onto her back.

* * *

It wasn't Elijah she dreamt of, but Mikeal. Standing over her, dark and cold and imposing, with his hand fisted in her hair. It might've been based in fact but the dream was fictitious, swirling in dark water and evil ancient vampires who gave ultimatums about kisses or death.

She woke up with Elijah hovering over her, the lights clicked on, looking bed warm and concerned.

"Bad," she whispered, wiping the sweat from her face. "Bad dream."

He sat on the edge of her bed and she surged up to wrap her arms around him, breathing hard, hiding her face against his throat. It was a different kind of intimacy and she needed him with the same desperation she had needed him for their sex; this was just another way he was under her skin.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he murmured. "I'm here. Shall I walk you through the dream?"

"No," she said sharply. "No. Don't - don't. It's not... it's not nothing, but, it's mine. Please. I just..."

He kissed her temple, rubbed her back.

"Tell me," he said softly.

"I just feel safer with you," was her simple, honest reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews feed the author


	9. On The Run Again

On the day she became sixteen weeks pregnant, she sat bolt upright in her empty bed, going from dead asleep to wide awake in the space of a second, legs scrambling in the sheets.

There must've been something in the tone of her voice, because Elijah's name was only half out of her mouth when he burst through the door, dislodging it from the hinges, by her side in an instant.

"Elena?" he took her hand. "Is it Toby?"

She took his shaking hand on put it on her full belly, wide eyed with shock. There was a beat, then Toby fluttered within her, replying, maybe, to the pressure of his father's hand.

"There," she whispered. "There, can you feel him?"

Elijah sank to his knees, hand still cupped around her stomach. He was so wide eyed it made her reach out and touch his face, her thumb stroking his brow. He leaned into it for half a second, then lowered his face to her stomach, and laid his cheek there.

Elena's heart broke.

 _He doesn't know,_ soothed Jenna's voice. _How much you love him. You have to let him love you in his own time._

 _You could tell him,_ Caroline suggested. _The truth will have to come out eventually._

 _Best come from you,_ said Esther, in her quiet, snake-like way. _Before other means._

 _How mad could he be?_ Damon cropped up, sounding blasé. _You had to let it happen, right?! Otherwise there'd be no baby daddy!_

 _Or me,_ said Stefan.

Elena wiped her face with the hands she wanted to touch him with, and threaded them in her hair.

"Does it hurt?" he wanted to know, still feeling the movement against his face.

"No, it doesn't hurt. It's like..." she searched for words. The word 'gas' was accurate, but not very pretty. "It kind of feels like... when my heart beats really hard, but... lower. Fluttering."

Elijah lifted his head, beaming. It was so old world and pure, she nearly touched his face. Instead, she held onto her own hair and managed to quirk her mouth instead of grimace like she wanted to.

"I can't believe it, the way he moves," he said warmly, framing her belly in both hands. He pressed a kiss to it, then lingered, speaking in his native tongue.

Elena understood 'love', she understood 'darling' and 'precious'. She understood the base word of 'protect', and she understood 'warrior'. There were many, many other words, all winding in poetry of promises.

God, she wanted to touch him.

"So this is what constitutes to the trust you have in me, is it?"

Elena's blood ran cold. In underwear and an old jersey, she nearly fell out of the bed and onto the floor but for Elijah's quick hands steering her upright. She hid behind him, clutching his arms desperately, using him as a physical shield.

Klaus was in the broken doorway, head tilted at the scene. His mouth pursed into a displeased frown, hands grasping the frame. A woman stood behind him, looking bewildered over his shoulder.

"Niklaus," Elijah said, lifting his hands between them. "Allow me to explain."

"You couldn't tell me you'd knocked up an old friend of ours?" He strolled in over the door, placing his steps the same way a cat stalked a mouse. "Oh, how rude of me. Hello Elena, how are you? Aside from clearly pregnant with my nephew, as it sounds. Forgive me, Freya! _Our_ nephew."

"Niklaus," Elijah firmed his older brother voice, then softened it as he took several steps back. "Surely you understand why she wouldn't want you to know."

"That you _let_ her is the part that concerns me," came the dangerously low retort. "You, who talks so often of family and honor."

"I honored my family," he said through his teeth. "I honored the mother of my child when she asked me to spare telling you."

"You chose her, above me?" Klaus spat. "Above Hayley? Above Hope?"

"Consider the situation," Elijah said, urging Elena back with a step. She moved where he put her, unable to process the reality that was happening, right now. She was having a problem breathing. "Consider what you put her through."

"How did it happen?" the woman (Freya, maybe?) asked him.

"Yes, why don't we revisit yet more impossible babies," Klaus said, in mock joy. He clasped his hands. "So? What was it? Did some witch cast a powerful spell? True love's first kiss? A leprechaun blessed your union?"

Elijah took another step and Elena followed, peering only slightly out from behind his arm.

Klaus’ eyes found her and her hands dug into Elijah’s arm as her brain whorled into a vortex of sheer and total panic.

"It wasn't magic," the woman said. "I can only sense the blocking spell."

"Ah, so who is it that doesn't know where you are, hmm?" Klaus hummed, pleased. "Does young Mr. Salvatore dare fathom your indiscretions?"

"Brother," Elijah warned. "Don't you dare presume to mock her."

"But the poor sod did love her. It would be a shame for such young love to get away because of a mistake child."

Elena glared at him, digging her fingers into Elijah's arm.

"Something to say, love?" he sneered at her, his version of a smile.

"Yeah," she said roughly. "Call my son a mistake again, and I'll shove a block of C4 down your throat and see how well your hybrid ass bounces back."

"Ooh, inventive. Do try, it'll be fun for us all."

"Klaus," said the woman softly, stepping up over the door, coming into the room. "We didn't come here to fight. We came here to see what was keeping our brother."

Elena scowled at her. She wasn't Rebekah, unless Rebekah was in a different body. She did have something reminiscent of the Mikealson line in her face, but Elena couldn't place it.

Elijah stepped, and Elena stepped, and she meant to step again, but when Elijah didn't, a panic swept over her and gave her such a rush of head spin she fell. She kept her hard hands in Elijah's sleeve as she went down, hitting the floor with her knees first.

Elijah had her scooped up before she could register the pain, holding her aloft like a bride. It was the worst time for her to experience what it might feel like to be weightless in his arms.

"Breathe, Elena," he said softly. "You must calm your breathing."

"I have to go," she said urgently, pushing at his hand under her leg. "Put me down, I have to go."

"Elena," he said patiently. "You're in no danger here."

"Bull _shit_ ," she snapped, and kicked her legs. "Put me down."

"You're not wondering around on the verge of a panic attack," he said firmly. "You'll faint and hurt the baby."

"Put me down," she shoved his chest. "He's gonna hurt us. Put me _down_."

"Do you really think me so cruel," Klaus wondered at her. "That I would hurt you while you carried a child?"

"You _will_ hurt me," she said through her teeth, flashing him a terrible glare.

She remembered how he had been with Tatia. The love he'd had was nothing on Elijah's, not for her, at least, but it was grand and deep. She understood that Elijah recognized her face in women through the centuries - not the color and shape, but the subtle nuances she shared. She knew that Klaus, however, was a different kind of romantic.

"You were sent in time," he said softly. "You're pregnant from a thousand years ago?"

Elena squirmed.

"I need a minute, I need to get out of here, put me _down_!"

Elijah put her down. He didn't even try to stop her when she snatched up a pair of leggings from the top of the wash basket, fleeing to the bathroom and locking it shut behind her. She pulled on the leggings and the brothers talked outside, but Elena was no longer caring about what they said.

The hardest part would be the escape. Once she was on the run, she'd be fine.

She turned on the taps to the bath and let the water beat down into it, making soft crying noises as she went. She timed a fake, but particularly loud sob with the unlocking of the window, grateful it slid up without much noise. The vervain necklace that she had taken off once in a fit, only a matter of nights ago, linked back on her neck. Her hands were trembling so much she clutched the pendant in her fist to stop it clinking on the chain. She muffled noises like crying, taking deep, long breaths, but her heart was still racing.

Toby moved again, and she touched her belly, shutting her eyes.

It didn't matter how much she wanted to be with Elijah. He wasn't the man she was once in love with; he was something different, someone who didn't love her back. She wasn't sure exactly where she would go, but it couldn't be with him, not when Klaus was involved.

She may have shed a few real tears, at that, but stifled the noise, and climbed out the window.

Shoeless, braless, it didn't matter. She'd been running around a Viking forest for so long her feet and legs were hardened to the work it took. She knew the act of running might have been dangerous for Toby, but not to what degree - and it had to be less dangerous than hanging out with Klaus, right?

Her feet were freezing by the time she made enough distance to feel safe, breasts so sore she was sure she had done some kind of real damage to the tissue inside. She was in the city, on the outskirts, the smell of the sea high and bright in the air. When she spotted a familiar face and took a second to place it - she was the receptionist, from the clinic.

Her brain whirred. An idea cropped up.

"Hey Whitney!" she jogged over to her, breathing hard.

"Oh, hello," She had loaded bags into her car, and just closing the boot. "Uhm, Mrs...?"

"Please help me," she said quickly. "The man I was with at the clinic, a couple weeks ago, he's gone crazy and kicked me out, and I need somewhere to stay!"

"Oh my god," she said, and Elijah's compulsion to _be kinder to every woman_ filtered through her brain. "Of course, get in, I'll take you home. What size shoe are you?"

Elena told her, got in the backseat, and laid down flat.

The drive only took a few minutes, but she didn't care how close or how far away she was, only that she wasn't seen. If they had a witch, it didn't matter because of her handy dandy warding charm. But if she was spotted, it was a different ballgame.

Whitney seemed to not mind her being so shady, especially when Elena asked just to let herself in the house. She took the offered keys and ducked inside, striding quickly through the kitchen while Whitney unloaded the groceries.

"I'll put the heater on," she said amiably. "And get you some shoes and a sweater."

"Do you have any sports bras?" Elena said. "The wireless crop top kind?"

"Uhm, maybe my housemate does?" Whitney, looking extremely puzzled, left the room to gather the bits.

While she was gone, Elena got out the purse in her bag, checked for cash and cards, then snapped it back and tucked it away. She was innocently fiddling with a place mat when Whitney returned with a pair of flats and a deliciously huge hoodie, but no bra.

"Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," she agreed. "Can I use your computer?"

"Sure." She reached over the desk and unplugged her laptop, unlocking it before handing it over to Elena. "What are you hungry for?"

"Not onions," she said blankly. She began to type and then click, and swooshed off an email to a friend before getting up and taking the assembled sandwich. She ate quickly, downing the dry bread with gulps of water. "Thanks, Whitney."

"You're welcome."

"Listen, I - I just need to stay tonight," she said quickly. "I only need tonight and maybe tomorrow morning, and then I'll have something figured out."

"He was scary, your husband," Whitney remembered, folding her arms across her middle. "You can stay as long as you like."

* * *

Jeremy Gilbert went from sleepy to wide-the-hell-awake when the light clicked on in his room and Elijah Mikealson strolled in like he owned the place. The old vampire inspected everything with his eyes, unbuttoning his suit, before taking a seat at Jeremy's desk.

After a long minute of waiting, Jeremy sat up, blinking at him hugely. He was unsure of what to say.

"Uh," is what he settled on. He scrubbed his face. "Is this a dream?"

"No," the Original said.

"So," Jeremy hesitated. "Am I in trouble?"

"I'm not quite sure," the vampire said quietly. He looked at Jeremy from under his lashes. "She's not here."

"No. Just me," Jeremy said. "Are you-? Are you talking about Elena? She left weeks ago. No one knows where she went."

Elijah did something that surprised Jeremy then - he bent over, putting his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his face with both hands.

"I know. She was with me," he explained into his palms.

Jeremy jerked as though he'd been hit, suddenly toppling out of bed to stand. Not very capable of doing anything against the significantly older man, but squared off at him like he was gonna try.

"What? Why? Is she okay?" 

"I have no idea." The vampire sat back in the chair, looking old. "She ran away from me, too."

"How long ago?"

Elijah checked his watch.

"Two days, and a handful of hours ago. I thought perhaps she'd come home."

"No," he exhaled hard, deflating from the spark of anger he felt, and rubbed his head. "She's uh, not here, man."

Jeremy walked across the room to his window and peered out of it, but her car was still there, covered in old leaves and dust. Elijah's sleek car was pulled into the drive just behind hers, making it look extra unloved. No one had touched anything of hers since the Sheriff had gone through everything to look for clues.

"Has she spoken to you?"

Jeremy looked at the vampire over his shoulder.

"What the hell do you care?" he asked, maybe a little arrogantly. "Why are you chasing her? What has she gotten tangled up in now?"

"I'm not chasing her," Elijah said stiffly. He sat, straightening out his impeccable suit with his hands. "I am not my father."

"Uh huh," Jeremy intoned. He put his shoulder to the wall, casting his eye out the window once more. "If she sees your car here, she won't come in. She's not an idiot."

"No, of course not." Elijah paused. "I'll go shortly. Once you answer a few things for me, without a half hearted attempt at talking me in a circle, if you don't mind."

"I didn't do that," Jeremy defended.

"Yes you did," Elijah acknowledged, not unkindly. "Now. Has she called you recently?"

Jeremy breathed out long through his nose, and shrugged one shoulder.

"Yeah. She didn't tell me where she was. She called me yesterday. I didn't even know she was on the move."

"Is she alright?"

"She sounded upset, I guess? She said she was calling from a payphone. She won't tell me what's going on. She just asked me a lot of questions about what I was doing and what Caroline and Bonnie were doing."

"What of the Salvatores?" the vampire said, narrowing his eyes. "Did she ask after them?"

"No. I mentioned they were still on the hunt for her - because they are, but -"

"What do you mean, 'on the hunt'?"

"Well they're like - trying to track her down. They harassed Bonnie into trying to get a locator spell on her but it didn't work."

"She has a very powerful ward against such things," Elijah said coolly.

"Speaking from experience?" Jeremy guessed, and tried not to shrink at the terrible glare he received. He might've just shrugged and tried to look like he wasn't actively being intimidated by clearing his throat and looking out the window again.

"Did she give you any clue as to her whereabouts?"

"Like there was no noise in the background, no cars or anything. Or people. Caroline already grilled me on the details."

Elijah bowed his head.

"Do you know if she's contacted anyone else?"

"No. That would be included in the part where I get too nosy, apparently." Jeremy hid a yawn into his fist, shaking his head. "Jesus, what the hell's she involved in now?"

"Nothing to cause you alarm," Elijah said softly. "She's quite capable. Do you have some way to reach her?"

Jeremy frowned.

"I don't."

"When does she contact you?"

"I'm pretty sure that's none of your business."

"Let me be clearer, young Gilbert." He got out of the chair and reached into his blazer pocket. "When she calls, you will tell her I was here. You will tell her that we need to talk." He put a card down on Jeremy's desk, sliding it with his forefinger.

"Even if I did, why would I do it for you?" Jeremy said flatly. "You made our lives hellish."

"And I am not above doing it again," came the soft, dangerous reply. "Enjoy the rest of your evening. I'll be waiting."

And then he was gone. Jeremy watched him get into his shiny black car and start it with a low rumble, then peel out of the driveway and into the night. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he was pretty sure it wasn't good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews get faster updates


	10. A Bag Full of Weapons

Gregory Peck had lent Elena his guest bedroom for the first week, and she'd had the immense pleasure of living under a family roof for a time. But she couldn't stay. He was too good a man, with too kind a family, to risk Elijah or Klaus ever tracking him down.

So after she managed to land a job, and accumulating a baggy wardrobe of hand-me-downs, she left.

After twelve days of working her shitty after-hours library job and sleeping in the couches in the break room, she'd found a place for cheap rent with a moderately clean bed and settled in for a brief stint. She had landed the job without them knowing she was pregnant, but at 19 - no, 20 weeks along - her belly had popped and was treading eggshells to keep it.

She worked hard to keep the funds coming in, but she needed _more money_.

Not even for things like sheets on an itchy, dirty mattress, or toilet paper. She made do with stealing tissue boxes from the library and wrapping herself up in layers of clothes. But food was a problem, because she wanted to eat everything, all the time, and no cut of meat was ever filling enough.

Besides the creature comforts and general living expenses, if she was ever going to have another scan, see another doctor, organize her birthing plan? She needed more money.

Jeremy picked up on the second ring.

"Hey," he said warmly.

"Hi."

"How are you?"

"I'm okay. I miss you." She looked at her big belly in the grimy bedroom mirror, filling out a shirt that had swamped her a mere three weeks ago. "How are things?"

"Well, uh, about that..." he sounded tired.

"What?" At his pause, she began to panic. "Oh, god, what, Jer?"

"Elijah Mikealson came by to visit me," he said mildly.

Her blood froze. She stared without seeing into the mirror.

"Is he still there?"

"He's been hovering, but I'm staying at Bonnie's again."

"Good." She blinked. "That's-... good. Did you get rid of Mikeal?"

"Kind of. He leaves me alone mostly. He's not really interested in me, any more."

Elena swallowed, and tried to think if that might have anything to do with him being interested in his grandson.

"So Bonnie didn't find the medallion?"

"No," he said fairly. "She's given up looking for the minute."

"Is she going to try and fight Elijah?"

"He's keeping a respectable distance from her," he said. "But the last time he caught me alone, he said something about making my life hell if I didn't tell you to call him."

"Is that all he said?" she muttered.

"He said you'd run into him. That he wanted me to contact you, let you know that we'd spoken, and tell you that you two needed to talk. And when I said no, he said he'd make my life hellish and walked out again. Now he's hovering everywhere. He's exactly like Mikeal was when I started seeing him floating around. So I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree there." He swallowed audibly, and Elena heard the school bell ringing behind him, somewhere. "Why did you stay with him, of all people?"

"Circumstance," she said faintly, and had to slide down on the floor, her back to a wall. She practiced some of the deep breathing her Youtubing had tried to teach her. "He's a powerful ally."

"And a dangerous enemy," Jeremy pointed out. "And now he's in town again. Bonnie pitched a fit."

She shut her eyes.

"Just tell him I don't know his number."

"He gave me it to pass along."

She squeezed her eyes shut until stars burst on her lids, and put a hand on her swollen belly.

"Fine. Okay. I'll call him. Just text me the number," she said, with a placidness she didn't truly feel. Toby fluttered in her stomach and she rubbed, trying to soothe him, maybe waking him up with her banging heart. "He didn't hurt you?"

"No, not even a little bit. He didn't compel me, either. I've been chewing on vervain for months."

"Okay. I don't think he will," she said, uneasiness coloring her tone. "But he might try and use you against me. Stay in groups of people, stay public, and stay in houses with different friends. Keep safe."

"I've got Bonnie and Caroline to help with that, you know," he said easily. "You don't have to worry about me."

"Yes I do," she said, and opened her eyes. "Jeremy, I - I have to ask you a favor."

"Yeah, of course."

"I need money. Like... All the money from my bank account. I'll text you my details, but can you go and make a withdrawal? Take the cash. Put it in a bag. And we'll - we'll meet up, okay, to get it?"

"Am I going to see you?"

"Yeah." No. "Just go take the money out first, then keep it safe at the lake house somewhere for a week or so. No doubt Sheriff Forbes will be informed about the account, and they'll definitely try and find you once you take it. We can meet... somewhere subtle. Maybe by the quarry?"

"Yeah, traipsing around in the woods with a bag of money to meet my runaway sister isn't subtle. But sure," he said, lightly. "I'll take it to the lake house, and text you when I'm done."

"Okay. Thanks."

It was a load off, knowing that money would soon be in her hands. She would cash up over the weekend - work at the library till she physically couldn't stand, and then maybe she'd have enough for the next scan. Something was up with her body, aside from the usual pregnancy goodness, and she suspected it was her iron, but wouldn't know what pills to get - or even if she could get pills.

"I miss you," he said, sincerely into the phone. "Are you ever gonna come back?"

"I don't know," she said honestly, because she was pretty sure that her answer was a solid no. "I've gotta go, Jeremy. Text me Elijah's number."

"Will do. Love you."

"Love you too."

She put the phone against her chin, elbows propped on her knees, and considered how likely it was that someone wasn't on the other end of his line, listening to every word. It was a very dangerous game to play, but if her brother knew she was pregnant, maybe he could help - run away with her, get a job, and between them raise Toby.

No. No that was not gonna happen. She wasn't going to ruin Jeremy's life to help her with the baby.

She could do it. It was fine.

* * *

In the grand scheme of things, there was still a little complacency that she couldn't afford when she drove out to Mystic Falls, despite knowing that Elijah was there. She had a wig on, and big gaudy sunglasses, and she wore her roommate’s' platformed boots to give her height but still - it wasn't enough.

"Elena?"

She barely, barely got away from Damon and into the nearest open window, landing squarely on her ass, yanking the curtains shut and not daring to peer through them. He'd followed her, yes, and he'd said her name, but only as a question. His footsteps stopped outside the residence and she held her breath.

"Stefan," he said, clipped, into what she guessed was a phone. "I think she's back."

Elena crawled away from the window even though it was curtained. It was still open and even a breath of air could compromise her hiding spot. She was on the floor of a child's room, with a dinosaur standing between her and the cupboard.

"Well hello to you, brother. I just saw what looked like Elena breaking and entering into some random house," he went on, not bothering to lower his voice. She imagined he was doing his crazy eye thing, and shut the wardrobe doors in on herself. "I don't know, middle suburbia? She was driving through town and then got out and started walking."

Well, there went her transport. If he knew where it was parked, he might as well have staked it out and waited for her to go to it.

"I'm gonna wait until I know it isn't her," he said firmly. "And then we'll see."

A far too long pause.

"If it is, she'll be home by the end of day," he promised, and then sounded much closer. "Elena. Get out of the house. If I have to knock on the door and get an invite in, I'm not gonna be this nice."

She didn't say a word.

"I can hear heart beats," he said, and at first she thought he meant to speak to her. "No, three in the room, and then someone else at the back of the house. Maybe I'll -"

Three?

 _Oh my god,_ what if there was a kid somewhere in the room? Hiding from the random adult that just flung herself in through the window? What if Damon got his hands on the kid? Would she believe that he wouldn't hurt someone to get her back where he wanted her?

"Hang on, the heart just kicked up to a solid ten. Elena. I know you're in there. I don't know who else is in there, but if you come out nice and quick, I won't even kill 'em."

She couldn't retaliate, but her heart was pumping to spit back a retort, say something, make him listen. She couldn't afford to goad him like she wanted to.

"Fine," he said shortly. "Knocking it is. Hang tight, I'll be right there."

Now what was she going to do?

First of all, she opened the cupboard, listening to the staccato banging of his fist on the door outside. There was a pause and she speed walked out of the room to the kitchen, ducking behind the counter just before the woman turned from her ironing and picked up her coffee. She had headphones in her ears, reading what Elena could just make out was a book.

Damon's fist pounded on the door again, and then the doorbell rang, and that got her attention.

She put the iron standing upright, and then set her coffee aside, and plucked one of the buds from her ears to hear the thunderous knocking once more.

"Coming," she said lightly, and Elena edged around the counter as the lady walked by.

She wasted no time or stealth on getting up - pulling herself up with the counter in her fists - then going out the back door and climbing up over the fence. She was already out of breath by the time she landed in the neighbor’s yard, picking up a stray baseball bat and using it to smash the ever-loving hell out of the glass door.

She didn't go in, though. She made a break for the street, leaving the bat clanging on the ground. Two dogs barked and tried to get her legs but she skipped out of the fence and shut it behind her before waddling off.

At the onset of two mothers with strollers, she turned to walk in their direction, doubling back to peer inquisitively at Damon through her huge sunglasses, watching him try to get into the neighbor’s house, pounding on the door above the racket the dogs were making.

It was risky. So risky. But he barely noticed them.

"Locked out," he said in their general direction, and went prowling around to the side of the house.

Elena breathed out, and walked with the ladies to a corner on the main street, where Damon's car was waiting.

Silly man always left the keys in the visor.

* * *

Jeremy had not taken the money to the lake house, and that was okay. Seeing as how both Damon and Stefan had been invited in, all Elena could do there was pick up some anti-vampire supplies and get the hell out.

Even if she longed to sleep - a warm bath - eat 24 oz of steak - she made herself get back in Damon's car and drive herself away. She parked it in the forest and had herself a nap, until it was much, much later in the night, not yet totally dark.

Then she got out, locked it and left the keys in the door, and began to walk home with a bag full of weapons.

In the platforms, it was hard on the forest floor. But that didn't matter, because this forest had been her playground for a long, long time. She had known it when it was young and she was an adult, and she had known it when it was ancient and she was a child. There was barely a branch that she didn't know, barely a stone she could swear she hadn't seen.

She knew the hotspots for parties, and the hotspots for magic, too. There was even a tree she had known was Elijah's favorite to tie her up to. It got a fond brush on the way through, a quiet _thank you for your support_.

Even though Elijah had been in her home so recently, she had to believe that he'd been keeping an eye on Jeremy. If Jeremy had been at Bonnie's, then so would Elijah. Hopefully.

Just for safety, she took pause on the outskirts of the forest, and dialed the number Jeremy had sent through to her.

He picked up almost instantly.

"Elena?"

"Jeremy's out of our house," she said dryly. "Are you happy now?"

"Is Toby well? Have you been for any more scans?" he said. "To what doctor? Are you eating enough?"

"I don't think I will tell you much of anything until I get what I need out of you," she said flatly. "Where are you?"

"I'm in Mystic Falls," he replied. "Is Tobias safe?"

"Where in Mystic Falls?"

"Sitting near Bonnie's house," he replied promptly. "I'm waiting for your brother to step outside so that we might chat. Is Toby alright?"

"You're not gonna touch my brother, Elijah."

"If he doesn't tell me what I need to hear, then I'm afraid touching will be the least of your concerns," he said pleasantly. "As I've heard you mention he is on vervain, and I imagine strong willed enough to withhold from me any important information, there will be a degree of... persuading, when I get my hands on him."

"The thing is," she said, finding the spare key under the back door. "He doesn't know anything. I haven't told him where I am, or what I'm doing."

"What _are_ you doing?" he prompted.

"I'm getting money," she said plainly. "Scans are expensive. Rent is expensive. The kind of food your son wants is expensive."

"Then why don't you tell me what restaurant you'd most like to sample," he suggested. "And I will meet you there?"

"Oh, no pulling me around by the hair? Boo." She hung up the weapons bag and unzipped it. "I thought it might be fun."

"This is far from a game," he said easily. "Far from the little games you certainly like to play."

"I'm not Katherine," she mused, finally pulling her itchy wig off her head and untucking her hair from the knot it was in. "I don't play games. I win them."

"You claim you're not Katerina," he said. "But you certainly sound the part."

Good.

Elena firmed her shoulders, felt a presence behind her.

"I'm gonna have to call you back," she said, quietly, and sprayed Stefan's eyes full of vervain while she was turned away from him. The phone dropped out of her hand and she took a metal bar out of the bag to whack him around the face with it, snatching a jar of blue powder that she threw at Stefan's chest. It exploded with a fragrant bang.

Stefan wasn't moving, but he wasn't grey and veiny, so she gathered the phone and bag and bolted upstairs to get into the stash of jewelry her mother had left behind. It would be a pretty penny at a pawn shop somewhere, surely. So even if Jeremy had her cash, she'd at least have some for her baby and she called it a gift from the grandma Toby would never have. She put it in the duffle and screeched into her room before she heard Elijah's voice still tinny in the receiver.

"Whoops. Baby brain," she said, breathing hard, voice forced lightly. "I thought I hung up." She wedged the phone between her shoulder and ear and threw herself onto the bed, unzipping the godawful boots.

" _Are you alright_?" he hissed into the phone.

"Never better," she sniffed. "Super pregnant and fighting off vampires is my favorite thing to be."

" _Who?_ " he demanded. "Where are you? Is my son _safe_?"

"He will be when I get out of this house." She pulled out some dirty old sneakers from under her bed, shoving her swollen feet into them with a grunt.

"Where are you, Elena?"

"What are you going to try and get out of my brother?" She wanted to know. "You have my number now; and you know I haven't told him anything of use for this exact purpose."

"If he doesn't know where you are or how to find you," he said, voice pitched low. "I am not above taking him and hurting him for the purpose of luring _you_ back to _me_."

"You won't," she said on the way to Jeremy's room. She'd left all the lights on in her wake and didn't give not an iota of a damn, storming through the house. She didn't have the kind of time to waste, to pause to turn them off again. "You're better than that."

"But I am not," he promised her, and lowered his voice to a dangerous, damnable baritone. "And there are a number of incredibly painful ways I can hurt someone without causing them any true lasting damage. The remedy being, of course, my blood, after your safe return."

She scoffed.

"You're not even going to look at Jeremy in a way I find threatening," she said flatly. "Because if you hurt my brother, Elijah, not only will I never forgive you, but there's a very, very good chance that you will never see me or this baby again. You already have no idea where I am or where I'll go, and you've been looking for this whole month. But let's make it two. How about twelve? You want to play the hostage game, that's fine by me. I'll play, and win."

He was deathly silent.

She pulled on one of her brother's hoodies with another gross beanie on her head as she ran down the stairs, skipping over Stefan's chest. She was outside with the baggiest jumper in the world, and her son rolled at the change in temperature. Maybe all the jostling.

Elijah didn't even speak until she was in her own car again, and had started the engine.

"You wouldn't," he said softly.

"Try me," she muttered, and hooked the phone up to her ear buds, peeling out of the driveway and out onto the road. She'd get onto the freeway through a series of back roads, and wouldn't have to cross any cameras or familiar paths - if she obeyed the speed limit, she'd make it out free. She had to ease of the gas for that to happen, though.

Her car was not making happy noises at being used for the first time in like, two months.

"You're not capable," he whispered. "Of that kind of nastiness."

"No?" she said innocently. "But you're so capable of threatening me with my brother's safety?"

There was another pause as she drove toward freedom. She wondered if he'd point out that in terms of the baby's uncles, he was only batting one out of the four he'd started life with.

"Are you safe?" he asked, eventually.

"From what?" she wanted to know, her tone low. "From the cold? From your brother? From miscarrying due to stress of being consistently on the run from you and your family?"

"Don't," he said softly. "That's cruel."

"Oh, is it?" her voice was pitched without her having meant to do it. She had to practice her deep breathing for a second before she could go on. "I'm so sorry to inconvenience you. It won't happen again. Better just hang up the phone now."

"Tell me where you are," he suggested. "I'll come to you. We can talk."

"Hmm, let you know where I am, let you find me and bring your brother along, let him ruin my life and probably try and kill me or hurt someone I love... Let me list the things I would rather do instead, like hm, I don't know, _literally everything else_."

"Elena," he implored her. It pulled every single string attached to her heart, and Toby spun within her. "Please. I am not your enemy."

She considered that as she drove, careful to mind the speed limit.

"No," she said. "You aren't."

"What if I swore," he said, voice threaded with the desperate Elijah of old, his accent turning on the soft vowels in his English. "That I would never speak to my brother again? That I wouldn't go to his aid? That I would leave my niece, and the rest of my family behind? What if I promised you, Elena, that you and Tobias would be my only family, if you just came back to me tonight?"

"Forsaking your family," she said lightly. "Is not something I will ever ask of you. It’s not what I want, and I know it’s not what you want."

When he next spoke, his voice was wobbly.

"I want my son."

"I never said you wouldn't have him," she replied calmly. "But the thing is, he's mine too. And Klaus - Klaus scares the hell out of me. And I can't risk Toby on him. You saw what he was like when he found out - he flipped. He's too jealous to be safe."

"So where does that leave us?"

"I'm still figuring that part out," she admitted. "The plan was-... The plan was to just, get away from Klaus on the day. Then I was going to just... sit down, and figure it out, but -... I can't seem to catch my breath. The little one needs food - I need money for the food - he needs rest - I need a place to stay. Every time I sit down, I sleep, and I dream these horrible dreams, and I think of you and I want to be there. But Klaus -"

"I'm rid of Niklaus," he said suddenly. "I'll have myself cloaked and won't appear to him unless he's in desperate need of me. Tell me where you are."

"No," she said softly. "No, I can't do that. I can't."

"Yes, Elena, you can," he urged her. "You said you trusted me."

"I do."

"You said you didn't want Tobias to grow in squalor."

"I don't."

"You said I was important to you."

"You are."

"Then trust me, and let me help you. The both of you," he said. "Let me pave the way for our baby. I have the means and the will to keep him - and you - safe, happy, looked after. That boy will want for nothing between us, he will grow up in a home of love and nurturing, of science and wonder, history, art and music."

She saw the soft, dangerous, dream like vision he painted for her. It was everything she wanted.

"I will not," she breathed. "Risk him on your brother."

" _Forget Niklaus_ ," he shot back. "I will never let him in your presence again, do you understand? I'll put a house in your name and only you will invite who you deem fit within the walls, even myself if you want it. Every spell through every witch will mark you safe from harm if you please, _please_ tell me where you are."

She wanted to. Desperately.

"I'm driving," she said finally. "Elijah, this isn't up for discussion right now. I'm not planning on keeping him from you forever if you just leave my brother alone."

"I will," he promised her.

"Your word, Elijah," she prompted softly. "Give me your word you're not going to use him to get me."

He didn't hesitate.

"I give you my word, your brother is safe. Where are you? Where are you going?"

"I just - I need time to get things straight in my head." She chewed her lip. "I just... I know this isn't - I want to be with you, I do. I swear."

"Then be with me," he urged. "Let me find you."

"I can't. This isn't - I'm not doing this." She firmed her resolve, strengthening her tone. "I'm not talking about anything right now."

"Elena," he said desperately. "Elena, do not hang up on me, we must discuss this. Have you been to your scans? Is Tobias healthy? Is he well?"

"I haven't been to a scan since I went with you," she said. "I can't afford them."

He breathed out through his nose, long and slow.

"Elena," he said patiently. "I understand you're scared. I understand you're protecting our child from a perceived threat. But let us do so together, so that he may have the proper start to his life. You say you will not risk him on Klaus, then fine. Klaus is not an option, I concede, you have won. But you cannot - _you cannot_ \- risk him while he's within you, and trying to grow. You can't do this, Elena. Not to him. It's not fair."

It wasn't.

She couldn't cry while driving at night, and she couldn't stop driving to cry.

"Life isn't fair," she retorted, and caught the sob half in her throat. "I have to go. I'm driving. I need to concentrate."

"Elena, please," he begged. The raw pain in his voice made her sob again. "Please, don't cut me out of my son's life, please don't hang up on me. I want to be there _,_ I want to be his father, _please don't deny me my son_ -"

"I'll call you back," she said, and heard only the first syllable of her name before she cut it off.


	11. Past Instinct

"Tatia!" A voice called out. " _Tatia_!"

Elena followed it.

If they were looking for her doppelgänger, surely they'd be closer to finding her than she had been, over the last few hours of aimless wondering. The soles of her feet, apparently spoiled by the new age shoes she lived in, felt the bite of something sharp and she fell, hurting her knee and scraping her hands in the process.

The bruise above her brow from when she'd landed was throbbing. Bonnie hadn't mentioned she would be feeling what Tatia had been feeling, but then again, she hadn't mentioned that she'd be in total and full control of her body, either.

To add insult to her very naked injury, there was a man staring at her through the trees, bewildered, hands sheathing a sword and undoing laces to what looked like a cloak.

She covered her chest with crossed arms, shutting her knees tight. At a distance, through her sore head, she thought he'd looked vaguely familiar but not threatening, and she was both right and wrong as he strode forward, tall and blonde and scowling.

Mikeal swept the cloak off his shoulders and had it around her before she could protest, staring at him, trembling.

He spoke quietly as he sank into a low crouch, firmly catching her chin and releasing it at her gasp and flinch. When she didn't respond to his crazy language, he bared his teeth and looked around as though he sensed danger, narrowing his eyes.

Elena wasn't sure what to do. Should she run? He was armed. But he wasn't angry at her. He might be if she and Tatia crossed paths, though...

"Carry her, she's wounded," he said darkly, and stood tall and imposing, drawing a short sword once more.

She glanced around, saw vague shapes, all earth colored, all except for Klaus, who's hair was a soft red, hanging long and dry around his face.

"Tatia!" he exclaimed, rushing forward.

Mikeal's hand caught him hard in the chest, shoving back so hard it forced the air from Klaus' lungs. He hit the floor, raising a puff of dry leaves around him.

Finn, just as tall as his father but infinitely gentler, crouched next to her.

"Hold on to me," he muttered, his cheeks burning.

Elena didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to say.

Finn tried to collect her into his arms and she scooted, revealing a part in the cloak that Mikeal had thankfully put around her, flashing right up to her hip bone in an effort to get away. She dug a bleeding foot into the dirt and pushed off, scrambling to pull the cloak shut, having seen Klaus' wide eyes flicker at her exposed skin. Her back hit a tree - she looked between them all, blinking too fast, too much.

What the hell, Bonnie?

She couldn't stop adjusting, twisting the cloak, tucking it under her pits and yanking it back twice over her legs. She wasn't having Finn touch her while she was naked, for crying out loud, that was _insane_.

Slowly, she got to her feet, only one of them bleeding when she tested her weight on it. Her knee was stinging but not badly; she'd had worse shaving accidents than that. Still, her head reminded her with a sharp pang, she'd landed onto rocks, and she had blood turning sticky in her palms.

Her gaze was torn away from her own hands at the sound of more people approaching, the sounds of horses and dogs, sniffing. She clutched Mikeal's cloak in the front, trapping it between her ribs and arms, and scattered when Klaus got to his feet.

"Leave her," growled Mikeal, and Klaus didn't protest, though his eyes were round and sad and desperate on her face.

She shook her head at him, not sure what question he was imploring of her, or if she wanted to answer it, and inched around the tree.

She had to run. She had to! Maybe she was Tatia- they were looking for her, right? In the forest? And here she was. Maybe - maybe if she just pretended, for a little while, she could see where the medallion was and then go to the water and find Bonnie's spell and go home. Easy. Right?

"Tatia-!" came from behind her, cutting her thoughts.

She looked at the three men before her, all of whom had brought her pain and misery and so much fear, and saw only Klaus' raw concern, Finn's general embarrassment, and perhaps a sense of protective pride from their father.

"Quiet, Elijah," Mikeal said shortly, and turned on his heel, eyes scanning their surrounds. "She's fragile."

Elijah appeared with his hands raised, and honestly Elena's first concern was his god awful hair.

His dark eyes were darting around her face, checking the swelling on her brow, her dirt smeared cheek, the trembling in her lips. His expression softened a fraction, then hardened as he turned towards his father, speaking low and fast, threatening.

Mikeal replied in kind, though he didn't bother to turn and address him. He crept, low to the floor, as though he was stalking something.

Elena had been wondering these woods for the better part of the day - if anyone was going to be found out there, it was sure to have happened. She flicked her eyes at Klaus, still looking so woundedly at her, and then to Finn, studying his father, and finally to Elijah, who had drawn his own sword and started to pace determinedly away.

Klaus was the furthest away. She gathered Mikeal's cloak, hanging like a dress, and wet her lips, ready to bolt, eyes going to behind the tree, where there were three horses, only two of them mounted.

The tall blonde man she didn't know, but the other, with very serious brows, his face was Kol's.

 _Shit, that’s all of them_ , she turned back around, catching Klaus taking a step forward. _You just stay there, Mr. Big Bad Wolf._

"Tatia," he said softly. "It's me, Klaus. You’re alright. I won’t harm you."

"Get her safe," growled Elijah over his shoulder. "Get her on my horse, brother, get her away."

Klaus made to step forward, but Elena pushed herself and immediately stumbled on another sharp sting under her foot, falling into a tree. She levered herself up, staring at Klaus, who's sad, sad eyes followed her.

"Tatia," he lowered his voice. "You're safe now. No harm will come to you from my hand; I swear it."

 _If only you knew,_ she thought spitefully, a thought that must've changed her face, because his powerfully expressive mouth popped open in horror. She darted away from Finn when he lifted his hand like he might lay it on her arm, and grabbed the nearest tree, ignoring the bite of pain that shot up her foot and in her hands.

She flinched and looked down to see what the hell she was stepping on that kept slicing into her arches, only to see bleach white bones. Bones of animals everywhere, littered in a circle. 

Her foot, her palms, her knee, her poor head - everything hurt. But nothing hurt half as much as seeing Klaus wipe his hand over his tearful eyes, turning away, and blotches of color in his cheeks.

"Brother," Finn said, aiming his voice at Elijah, who turned his head to lend his ear, but didn't dare take his eyes off the tree line. "Your woman needs you."

It was then she chose to run, when all their eyes were away from her.

She'd never bolted like that in her life; all caution to the wind, dodging spindly trees that reached out of the dead floor like twisted, broken fingers. The crisp air was numbing as it tousled her make-shift dress, almost cruel in her throat as she panted, one hand clutching the cloak shut, the other swinging for momentum.

There were so many sharp things, but she wouldn't stop for anything. She only had to lose them, and then she'd be okay; Bonnie said that she only needed to find the last person who'd touched the medallion, and she'd know them because they would be marked with a sigil on their palm or forehead, depending on how the medallion had been used, and then Elena had to think the spell - there were markers for it in the landscape, but she couldn't remember the words with the current panic in her chest -

There were pounding footsteps behind her. Only one set. She risked a glance and saw Elijah, but she saw the Elijah she knew with longer hair - with his entirely devoted face and thinned mouth, had he ever been any less than he had been as a human?

What would he do? What could he do to her?

She took a sharp turn and nearly skidded out on the leaves, felt her ankle threaten to roll and barely made it out by sheer force of will.

It was hard, not familiar and passingly understanding her hometown forest, these trees that would grow into such prominent figures in her upbringing. She had no idea, no idea where she was, until that _fucking boulder_ \- she'd seen it that many times on her way to the Falls part of Mystic Falls. She was near water. She could jump and trust that Elijah wouldn't do it!

If she jumped from here the way all the idiot boys had grown up doing, she'd be fine! She could swim to the place Bonnie had left the words for the spell imprinted on a rock, and then she'd be home. Easy.

She planted her foot down with a smack and lept over it, flying for a short moment. She ran left - Elijah's breath was fast, too close - if she only got just a little bit further out of his reach, she could -

 _Eat shit_ on the way down, his hard arms around her elbows, dragging her short and swiftly to the ground with a grunt. The cloak fell away and covered only her backside and legs, but it didn't matter, because his body covered the rest.

Only shortly, because he pushed off and turned her over, hand cradling her cheek.

And Elena? Socked him, hard as she could, hard as Stefan had taught her, _pow, right in the kisser, baby_.

He was clearly not expecting this, and sat back on his ass with stars circling his head. She couldn't breathe, it was so close, she'd run so far, but she also couldn't trust that he wouldn't just fucking tackle her to the ground again, so she kicked him in the guts while he was down, and yanked up the cloak that was trapped under her, trying to get to her feet.

His eyes snapped to the hem as it trailed away, and he slipped in dead leaves to snatch it up in a fist, pulling it hard out from under one of her knees.

She split, hit the floor with an _oomph_ , and kicked out waywardly, maybe hitting the fleshy part of his bicep. She rolled and dragged the cloak around her to protect her modesty, protecting exactly one boob and most of her belly, and struck out again, but he was there, winded and wincing, but solidly on top of her.

"Tatia," he was saying urgently. "Tatia, my love, please, please, it's me, Tatia, it's me!"

She punched him square in the cheekbone, and although his head whipped around he didn't get off. He just shut his eyes, and took her wrist, nailing it to the floor next to her head in a sweaty claw.

"Tatia," he said, trapping her desperately swinging hand against his chest, the thunder in his heart. "Tatia. It's me. It's Elijah. I will not hurt you. I will not touch you, but you must listen. Listen, dearest, that I may let you go."

She bared her teeth at him, tried to pull her hand off his chest and unclench his determined shackle from her wrist, but she needed only to wait - he let go of both, moving to the side on his knees, breathing hard still. His dark eyes were unblinking on her face, the hem of the cloak still trapped in his fist.

Elena crawled back as far as she could with it held up to her chest, hiding everything but her heaving collarbone and head. She pulled it, but he didn't let go, just watched her.

"Let go," she demanded, her voice shaking.

"I will," he agreed. There was a red mark just under his eye, and her knuckles agreed that it was a solid punch.

" _Now_." She yanked the cloak but it went taut and lifted too high, making her squeak in embarrassment and wrap a leg around it, stomp down to keep the secret between her legs. Her hands were stinging as she gripped it in both fistfuls, but Elijah's eyes were on her exposed limb. "Stop _looking_!"

He immediately lifted his gaze to her face.

She vaguely became aware that her shin was covered in blood and leaves, but honestly, it was such a little cut. Those ones were like, the worst, always got Stefan all upset when she shaved her legs.

"Tatia-"

"Just let me go."

He firmed his mouth, adjusted his grip on the cloak.

"You must listen," he said, lowering his voice. "We are in danger even now. If they come for us, I cannot fight them all. You must come home with me."

"No!" She pulled the material and saw him double down on holding it, including his other hand in the fray. So she had no chance against his strength? Cool. She was down for a skinny dip.

"You will freeze to death." He swallowed. "If the wolves do not get you first. I swear to you, I promise; no man, no woman will bring you harm under my sword, but we must leave. We must return home, where it is safe, where I can keep you-"

Elena threw the material over his head and _sprinted_.

The chase was surprisingly short lived - between her spinning head and Elijah's motivated stride, she barely made it to the cliff face before he was wrapped back around her. She bucked; she twisted, even tried to head butt him - she slipped under one arm and actively tried to throw herself into the churning rapids. She hadn't known they'd been that vicious.

"You think if you fall, I will not gladly follow?" he said through his teeth, turning her back to face him fully by the hard clench of his hands on her arms. "You think me _scared_?"

He read her face, narrowed his eyes, heart banging, teeth clenched. Then he let her go and pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the floor, eyebrows raised in challenge.

"You think I will not follow you to the valley of the dead, if you so decide?" he dared. "Test me."

Elena heaved in a breath, knees trembling... And fell to the floor in a puff.

Exhausted, trying to cover herself with cupped hands and strategically placed legs, she breathed hard up at him, defiant, pink-faced, and felt her head give a terrific spin.

He glowered down, hands in fists at his sides, then softer, lowering into a crouch. He was close enough she could kick him. A hard enough hit might send him flying back into the watery depths below.

 _But noooo_ , she shut her eyes, turned her face from him, curling with her knees to her chest. _Great Scott, that'd change too much of the future!_

"I am not cross with you," he said, lowering his tone. "My fury is reserved for that men who stole you away in the night; the ones who have you wounded and scared, my love. My fury is for the fear in your eyes when you looked at Klaus, and the hatred that you speared his heart with. You need not tell me what they did; I will love you regardless, until the end of my life, and this I think you know. But you must live to see it. You must rise with me, and come home, that I may keep you safe from the wolves that come for you."

Her mind was whirring. She was still breathing strangely, and staring into the white water as it curled in on itself, thousands of gallons pounding with a new flood. She considered jumping for a second, and then remembered what it had been like to be in the car with her family when it filled.

The trapped, hopeless feeling, the too quiet, too dark, too slow movements.

She shut her eyes.

Bonnie had said she only needed to find the person who'd held the medallion. Once she'd done that, she could find the marker for the spell and go home. Elijah and his family weren't vampires yet; he never would've let her get so far, and he wouldn't have let himself get hit.

She reached out blindly and grasped his shirt from the ground, pulling it on roughly, frowning and pulling her hair out from the collar as she pulled it over her belly. The legs and butt part would be difficult while she sat, but no way was she giving him an eyeful if she could help it.

"Look away," she glared.

In reply, he put out his hand, ascending gracefully into standing.

"You hold my hand so that I know you aren't jumping," he said fairly, and raised his brows. "And I will."

She ground her teeth, then shoved her hand into his, waiting while he turned his head and then stood shakily behind him, tugging the shirt into place around the tops of her thighs. It was... risky. With the wind as rife as it was, any amount of stepping and she'd be basically offering it up.

She made to take her hand back and hold the shirt in place with both but his fingers closed around her palm and made her suck in a gasp at the pain of a healing cut being burst open again.

He flicked his eyes to it, the new blood pooling hot against his own palm, then shut his eyes and lead her forward, loosening his grip.

She kept her head up when she limped past, pulling her hand from his.

"Thank you," he said.


	12. Tatia Tatia Tatia

Rebekah had been told that, because Tatia had hit her head, her memories were a little weaker, so she would accompany her in her family hovel until she had regained full health. So it was from Rebekah that she learned to bathe and dress and even pee, properly.

Tatia's family was small - a mother, a father, one younger sister Leda. With her return and new reluctant (read: unsure) attitude, they agreed to put up a wall to separate where Leda and Tatia had slept to give the older girls some privacy.

It made the room very cramped indeed.

People cared about her sad face, and kept trying to get through to her, make her busy to quiet her mind, or distract her from whatever she'd been through. Which honestly? Not so different to an era Elena was more familiar with. No one knew what had happened to precious Tatia - one second, she'd been with a friendship group in the woods, chatting and laughing, and the next, she'd been gone.

But Rebekah had taken very well to being her constant protector. It was smothering. All she wanted was a minute away, and while the blonde was occupied Elena made a hasty retreat.

"Tatia?" got her attention, but the rest of the words that followed were not in any language she understood. The big blonde guy was looking at her with such a soft expression on his worn face, though, so while she had initially thought to get up and walk away, she stayed with her arms crossed and back on a nearby home.

House? Hovel.

He put a hand on his chest.

"Erik," was the only word out of the following conversation she understood. The tone of his voice was gentle. He had blue, blue eyes on her, and at his intimidating height he couldn't hide the uncomfortable twist to his mouth.

She shook her head at him, trying to communicate that she wasn't interested in talking, but it appeared to answer a question of his, and he stilled, looking wounded.

Elena didn't know what else to do. She muttered an apology and stepped around him, straight into Mikeal's stride. He bumped into her and a tight hand snatched her arm before she could fall on too many skirts and the thick mud swamping her boot.

He let her go the same second that she was steady, already glaring at Erik over the top of her head. Even though Erik was taller by a few inches, younger and broader, he put his head down and left promptly.

"If that boy needs a beating," Mikeal said flatly. "Mention it now."

"He doesn't," she said quickly. "He wasn't doing anything... untoward."

"Hm," he said shortly, and looked down at her, eyes partially narrowed. "You used to like him."

She swallowed.

"Things change."

"You looked at him like he was scum of the earth."

"It's not - about me, not liking him-"

"You don't want to be in the company of men?" he gathered dryly. "Those barbaric animals wounded your soul, with what they did to you. You should have vengeance. Recall names or places so that we may band together and revel in their screaming."

There had been a time she thought that Damon was insane, but this guy was nothing short of a fucking maniac. He was all wild hair and flaming blue eyes, the scowl on his face so often marked there that his wrinkles had conformed to frame it. There was dried blood on the ends of a braid in his hair, and a spot of it on his collar.

"No, thank you," she said, and hugged her middle, putting her eyes back up to his.

He was a force to be reckoned with as a human. Bubbling rage and seething hatred. He was a powerhouse of danger, and she could feel it rolling off of him in waves, the urge to hurt and fight and maul and conquer.

"That wasn't an option," he said flatly. "Do you know where they took you?"

"No."

"Do you know what they looked like?"

"No."

He frowned, deepening the lines of his face, the upset valleys carving in deep to his skin.

"Are you lying to me?"

"No." Then, because he clearly wasn't convinced: "Why would I lie?"

"Indeed," he said, clipped. "Why would you snub the advances of every person who you once loved? What sorcery they cast upon you my wife does not yet know. She works on it as we speak."

She nodded slowly.

"If there is a magic on you," he went on. "Causing heartache or regret, we shall soon know, and thwart it."

It was good to have manners, especially for people who thought they were doing the right thing, and carried around sharp weapons.

"Thank you, Mikeal," she said, and was startled to see him narrow his eyes at her again.

There weren't any more words. He lingered for a few seconds, eyes scanning her face as though he were waiting for something to burst out of her eyeballs, and then he spun on his heel and left.

* * *

"Tatia!" Leda cried out, and smushed her face against who she thought was her sister's leg. She was babbling quickly and excitedly, but Elena had no idea what she was saying.

Tatia's parents were out and busy, and there were several kinds of flowers on the table, the beginnings of being threaded through into a long pretty chain.

Leda took her hand and lead her in, allowing Rebekah passage into the house. She took up sitting on one of the stools, smiling prettily at whatever Leda was still talking about as she dragged Elena down to the table and made her sit.

She climbed up onto her knee and pulled over the chain to measure it against her skull, and Elena understood.

The little girl was making her a crown of flowers to make her feel better. She couldn't stop the suddenly warm feeling swelling in her chest - the glow of genuine surprise and affection. It was so sweet of that little girl to try and make her better. Although the child still chatted on relentlessly, she was mostly still on Elena's leg, leaning back to cuddle against her front while her fingers wove the flowers together neatly.

Elena put a careful arm around her in a mockery of affection, but neither the child nor Rebekah seemed to notice. They spoke in their foreign tongue for a few minutes more before the chain was done, and then Rebekah helped her thread it prettily into her hair.

"I feel good," she promised the child with a smile. "Much better, Leda. Thank you so much."

* * *

"Tatia?"

She was getting really sick, really quick, of what she had once thought was a pretty name.

This time is wasn't Erik that had followed a brief escape from Rebekah, but Agnar. This one she knew, because he often had fight training with the Mikealson clan, and they more often than not shouted at him for farting.

She was standing behind the white oak tree, just taking a few seconds to gather her thoughts without an overly obsessed audience. What was she doing there? Every minute she spent in Tatia's body, people were suffering. It had been _weeks_ and she still hadn't even made it out to the falls to see the marker for Bonnie's spell - because people wouldn't leave her the hell _alone_.

"Agnar," she said in greeting.

"How are you?" he smiled, somewhere behind his scruffy red beard.

"I'm well," she saw movement over his shoulder, somewhere behind a home, but it was brief. It could've been the trees behind that. "How are you?"

"All the better for speaking to you," he said, beaming. His big arms were out, hands on his hips. She was pretty sure he was flexing. "I haven't seen you in your normal capacity, of late."

"No," she leaned against the tree. Wondered if Tatia's 'normal capacity' meant fucking all the dudes, then regretted it. "I've been... busy."

"Relearning, yes," he nodded, and softened his smile. "You look beautiful, today."

"Uhm, thank you." She inched around the tree, just in case he was going to be a problem and she needed someone to see it. Although from some of the stories she heard, cloaked in English to protect their wives' ears, it sounded like a lot of Viking men didn't exactly have a problem with hurting women, so she might've still been on her own. "Leda has been making me a crown a day.”

"She's a sweet child," he agreed. "Lucky to have you to dote on."

"I... guess." She shrugged, and swallowed. "I haven't been useful for much else, so..."

"We realize," he said, bowing his head.

"We?" she arched her brows.

"The village," he confessed. "We all know you, Tatia, we all care for you. Some more than others-"

"Some like my brothers?"

Elena jumped.

Kol sauntered over to pick a place beside her and lean against the bark, toying with a short knife, digging out grit from under his nails.

He said some things in their native tongue, and made Agnar look sufficiently ashamed of himself, before he bid a goodbye and left the two of them alone. Kol still made her neck hair stand on end, so she backed away, watching him.

He returned the favor, still picking his nails clean.

"You do look very pretty in a crown," he agreed.

"Eavesdropping isn't nice," she muttered, and stepped out from behind the tree to walk back to her temporary home.

"Neither is the terrified look on your face," he said cheerfully.

"I'm not scared."

"No, you're terrified," he said mildly, and sheathed the blade. "Flirting used to come easy to you."

She pursed her lips and shot him a side long look that he ignored.

"I wasn't flirting with him," she mentioned.

"No, you certainly were not."

"What were you doing, lurking in the bushes?"

"Watching. I don't trust him, darling," he said easily. "You're right to be frightened."

"Watching to see if he was going to talk to me?"

"No. That's just what I do." He shrugged. "When I'm not off with a lady, or two. It's good to observe, no?"

* * *

It had been weeks.

Erik and Agnar in particular, they had been heart eyes over her since her 'return', and she didn't understand why; her mood had been sour the entire time and she didn't speak to anyone because they mostly just used the language of their people. If she spoke too much they might realize that she didn't remember the tongue, which wouldn't make her 'pretending to be a Viking' plan easy.

But they kept on talking to her, and Kol would occasionally swoop in, and sometimes he'd bring Klaus or Elijah or Finn with him.

Tatia, the real Tatia, had not yet returned, and for that, Elena had two theories:

1) She had swapped to Elena's place in the time line,

2) She was dead in a ditch somewhere.

Neither were ideal.

No one had any strange marks on their bodies. Everyone had their own scars, that was true, but none were familiar to her like the insignia she was looking for. So either Bonnie had been wrong about the medallion, or she wasn't supposed to find it yet.

Elijah smiled softly at her from over the fire pit, leaning casually against a tree, some meters away. He did that often; watched her, acknowledged her, and then went about his business. It was about the same time every day when he finished his training or chores and had several hours before they all did their dinner thing and wound down for the day.

"I wish he would stop doing that," Elena mumbled.

"Why? You know he's not going to give up on you," Rebekah said mildly. She was mending something - Klaus', she would've guessed from the bloody spots. He'd dropped it off at their shared living space with a hopeful look in Elena's direction, then left swiftly when Rebekah had swooped in and scolded him about ladies' privacy.

Elena dragged her attention away to look at the blonde, needle in hand, studiously staring at the tear in the fabric.

"Why?"

"You know why," she said simply. "You think by hiding behind this, façade, of yours, it might put distance between you. For whatever reason you'd want that. If you want him to leave you alone, you'd best just ask."

Elena shifted.

"What façade?"

"The one you think I haven't noticed." Rebekah flicked her eyes up. "The one where you're playing soft and fragile, Tatia. It's never been you before. It wasn't you when you ran away from whoever stole you, or when you hit Elijah in his face and blacked his eye for trying to bring you home."

"I was frightened."

Rebekah stilled the needle to raise a brow at her.

"Frightened doesn't fight," she said, a touch too wisely. " _Fury_ does."

Elena folded her arms over her middle. The winter of yesteryear was a different cold to her, but everyone else seemed fine. She couldn't get her body warm at night; not with layers of fur and all the clothes she could fit in. It would've been wrong to ask for more when it would mean having to kill more animals for the pelts.

"I'm not saying I want him to give up," she murmured. Elijah couldn't give up on his first love because she was momentarily misplaced. That wouldn't have been fair. "It's not like that."

"What is it like, then? Do you much enjoy stringing the men along?"

"I haven't spoken first to a man since-" _I got here, you salty bitch. I don't want to talk to any of them! Have your gross, violent Vikings!_

"You never spoke of what happened," Rebekah narrowed her eyes. She sat her sewing down. "Not even in your sleep."

Elena frowned at her.

"Why would I talk in my sleep?"

"Because I gave you a remedy to do so," said Esther's smooth voice. She had her hands clasped neatly in front of her and was looking down on Elena, a small smile on her mouth. "The remedy was to speak your wounds that we may have aided you to heal."

Elena glanced back at Rebekah, nonchalantly continuing to sew.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that, whatever happened, you've likely buried, so deep within your mind that even you have forgotten it." The woman paced around to take a seat on the carved bench beside her. "I could draw it out, if you'd like, but I'd need your spoken consent to do so."

"Why would I do that?" she said slowly. "If I've put it away, why would I want it drawn out again?"

"Closure," Esther said patiently. "But mostly we want names and the place they took you. If you knew the names of the men who wounded you so and where they went, you know that this village would rally behind you with such a fury, no man would stand to harm one of ours again."

Elena blinked. She didn't want a war. She didn't want to be responsible for the slaughter of a bunch of people just because Bonnie had dropped her off a little too early in the medallion hunting game.

She looked around, seeing Elijah's brow lowering from across the flames. Something about her face may have clued him in, and he started towards her.

"I have-" she looked back at Rebekah. "To go. With Elijah. For a walk."

"Are you?"

"Yes. Don't we, Elijah?" She took him by the crook of his arm and stared with intent at his face, wondering if he was game to lie on her behalf.

"Yes," he said pleasantly, bending his arm around her hand. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

They weren't wholly convinced, but they allowed Elena to walk out of the conversation, more or less steering him away from the ladies of his family with her head down. She led him only to the edge of the village, where the trees began to thicken, and then let his arm go.

"Are you alright?" he murmured.

"Fine."

"What did they want?"

"Names." She hugged her middle. "Locations. I don't know anything."

He nodded as though it made sense, taking a few steps away.

She glanced back at Esther, who was watching, Rebekah talking rapidly to the side of her head. The woman had already tried to get information out of her in secret - she guessed that with Elijah, at least, she would be safer.

"We should walk," she said, and swallowed.

"Tatia," he said quietly. "If you need it of me, I will just tell my mother to stop prying."

The ground was drier under her soft soled shoes than she'd remembered it being. She kicked at it, brain whirring to have something to say. The thing was, she wasn't finding the mark on these people. She was only supposed to be there for a handful of hours, maybe, and see where it was through Tatia's eyes. Then she just needed to see the spell marker, and linked to Bonnie's magic, she could go home.

Buuuuut, no one left her alone long enough to go and find it.

"If I asked you," she mumbled, tightening her arms around her middle. "Would you help me with something?"

"Of course."

"Would you teach me how to run away?" she said, voice small.

"You-..." the breath he took in was heaved deep into his lungs, calming more than anything. "Tatia, you are escaped and free from them. We will not let you be taken once more."

"But I was taken the first time," she said quickly. Feeling guilty at his expression, her twitchy hand went out to his arm, touching the warmth of his bicep. He was toasty, totally at ease in the climate. "No, please don't - it wasn't your fault. I'll just - feel better, knowing that I'm capable. Is that- is that something we can do?"

"I can," he said quietly. "Teach you how to cover your tracks. How to hide. How to read the skies for sense of direction. If it will put you at ease, then yes, I will teach you."

She nodded.

"Can we start now?"

* * *

Elena was sure that she could forgive the absolutely girlish scream that projected out of her mouth to mark her fear. It was so dark, and she was creeping out of the hovel, her ears strained to hear the slightest indication that she was not alone.

And she had neither seen, nor heard, her attacker, until he’d struck.

Mikeal's hand clamped down hard on the back of her neck, and she had such a shock of it that her knees went from under her, bringing the ground to her hard and fast. He kept it there, on her scruff, looking down at her with daggers in his eyes.

" _Where_ are you going?"

It was closer to morning than midnight, the earth freezing under her knees. The moon was nearly full and she had only meant to sneak out from under the furs and Rebekah’s arm and go and find the spell marker before the sun rose.

She didn't have words. She looked up at him and waited for his decision.

He frowned at her silence, and hauled her up to her feet, taking a second to bend at the waist and bat off the leaves that clung to her skirt, dusting them off with sharp swats of his hand. He never hurt her, though he did roughly steer her back toward her house.

She dug in her heels.

"Wait," she said, grabbing his arm over her head. "Wait just a second."

"You'll catch your death of a cold," he bit back. "If the wolves don't get you first."

"Wait," she put her foot up on a nearby stump and made him falter in his stride. "Let me explain, Mikeal."

He hissed through his teeth and although it was a clear indicator of his ever present bad mood, he had stopped trying to drag her back to her room. She pulled on his arm but he only tightened his grip on the back of her neck and didn't move a single inch.

"Explain," he demanded, voice low.

She swallowed.

"I had a dream. It might've-"

He already started to haul her back, but she pushed back off the stump again and leaned with all her weight back under his hand.

"Mikeal, _wait_ -"

He bared his teeth and spun her away from the stump, putting her face to face with him. She was looking into the moon's light, so he was silhouetted, a shadow man holding her skull in one vicious clawed hand. She winced, and he may have loosened his grip, just an inch, before he started to prowl forward, forcing her to stumble backwards.

"A dream," he scoffed.

"A memory," she snapped, and shoved at his chest. "A memory, I think, Mikeal, you're hurting me-"

He stopped. His hand did not leave the possessive grip on her spine but it didn't hurt, either. He looked at the hand that she had shoved his chest with and she was quick to remove it.

"A memory. You think," he repeated.

"Yes," she said bitterly. "Let me go-"

"Why were you sneaking around in the dark of night," he started, narrowing his eyes at her. "For a memory?"

"I wanted to see," she retorted. "While it was fresh in my mind. If it was real or not."

His eyes flicked between hers, unblinking, as though he sensed the lie but couldn't prove it.

The way he was holding her, then, and leaning over her, it felt like a bastardised version of a lover's kiss. They were close, though the only point of contact was where he gripped her skull and she had hold of his arm to try and drag it away.

"Where," he said through his teeth. "Were you going?"

She winced. If he sent other people there, it would compromise the nature of the spell. If Esther saw it, for example, and reverse engineered it, would she understand what it was? Who it was meant for?

Mikeal tightened his grip on her neck and Elena shoved at his chest again. He batted away her hands and when she tried to wrench her head out of his grasp he took her face in the other, framing her entire jaw with his grubby palm.

His bright eyes were narrowed, and he was maybe a few inches away from her. So close she could taste the ale on his breath, and the smell of dirt trapped in his scowl.

"You're spelled," he decided, and started to drag her away, hand still clamped on the back of her neck.

"I am not," she tried to pry his hand from the back of her neck more desperately. "Mikeal, stop it!"

"I," he dragged her up, grabbing the front of her borrowed cloak to keep marching forward. "Will not."

He more or less hip and shouldered open the door to his own home with a loud thwack, and Elijah and Finn were the first on their feet with weapons in hand. He shoved her and she stumbled, tripping over her hem, straight into Finn, who dropped his dagger to catch her.

"Hold her," Mikeal demanded, storming over to where Esther was rousing, looking bewilderedly up at him. He crouched and began to speak rapidly, letting his wife know what he thought and what had happened.

Elena barely had to pull against Finn's hand before he let her go, reaching up to rub her tender neck. She flicked eyes over at Klaus and Kol who were only just getting out of their bedrolls. Klaus' hair was an absolute mess, and Kol was squinting at them as Mikeal stoked the fire to bring light into the room.

"Hold her, I said," Mikeal barked.

Elena saved Finn the trouble of his conscience by putting her hand out to him to hold.

He took it, bowing his head, quietly grateful. His palm was huge, nearly eclipsing hers, but dry and warm. At no point did he squeeze her fingers; he barely kept his own caged around hers.

Elena watched Mikeal pace, while Esther pulled on a thick shawl and went to her table of things, doing a quick braid over her shoulder. Some Elena recognized - roots and herbs, for example - but there were several other meatier things, and talismans, and skins, and feathers too. She started to grind something together, muttering magic under her breath.

"What is it for?" she asked the open air.

Mikeal stopped pacing to turn to her, his eyes darting to Finn's hand on hers. He scoffed, and prowled forward.

"Father-" Elijah said quickly, stepping forward. "I will hold her."

Mikeal did not stop. Klaus may have protested but it fell on deaf ears. He grabbed Elena by the bicep and yanked her away from Finn, standing behind her with both hands firmly set around her arms.

She tilted her head back to glare up at him.

"What is it _for_?" she demanded.

"To see what you've been spelled with," he snapped back.

"I'm not spelled," she protested, and gave a halfhearted shake of her shoulder. "It was just a dream. I just wanted to see if it was real or not."

"Right this second?" he scoffed. "You can barely look on any man in our village for fear, yet you charge off into the night for a dream?"

She tried to shrug him off her shoulder, and he tightened his grip to the point where she sucked in a painful breath. The second she stopped struggling, he let it relax, but kept the threat of his hands on her arms.

"We will soon see," Esther said, and came over to them. "Hold her tight, Mikeal. It'll hurt."

"Mother, that's a touch too cruel," Kol said quietly. "Perhaps I can assist-?"

It didn't matter what he was going to suggest instead, because Esther wiped an 'X' into the center of Elena's head with something fragrant and gritty and for a second, nothing happened but her anticipating breath.

Then burning, furious pain, lighting up her entire skull. It nearly dropped her to the floor, and would've, if not for Mikeal's tight grip on her. There wasn't even air enough in her to scream, just light and water sloshing in the space where her lungs used to be. Everything burned. Everything stung. Still, Esther was there, swimming into focus, and she held her face as she convulsed, staring into her leaking eyes.

There was a brush on her forehead and the pain just... abated.

Elena heaved for breath, and Mikeal picked her ragdoll body up off the ground from under her armpits. He laid her out of a bedroll and Esther was quick to cover her over, stroking her hair away from a sweaty brow.

"No, she's not spelled in any capacity," she said mildly to the air. "And the memories are entirely gone."

"What do you mean?" Mikeal said darkly. "How can a memory be entirely gone? It must've been spelled, woman."

"It isn't by way of magic," Esther said patiently, kneeling at her bedside. "Whatever was in her head, if it did present in the form of a dream, then it's gone now. There isn't anything but aimless wondering before when you found her in the woods, Mikeal. There is only emptiness."

"What does that mean?" whispered Klaus, broken, across the hovel.

"Do it again," Mikeal said flatly. "She said she dreamt. Do it again."

"I can't see the dreams," Esther replied, arching a brow at her husband. "And if I preform that spell again she'll fracture."

Mikeal didn't like that. He cursed in his own language and crossed the room to lean his hip against the witch's table, folding his arms across his chest. He glared at his sons and then pulled off his leather armor, derobing for bed with a string of growled muttering under his breath.

"Mother," Klaus said, approaching, falling into a crouch by her side. "What does it mean, that there is only emptiness before we found her?"

"I think," she said softly, stroking Elena's sweaty head. "She may have buried it all. Hidden everything away. Sometimes people break when they are bent - sometimes they turn in, on themselves. Whatever Tatia has been through, whatever horrors she has seen, they're lost to her."

"A blessing," Finn murmured. "Poor thing."

Elena shut her eyes. Let them think she'd survived some kind of hell. If they stopped dragging her around and forcing her to feel such abhorrent pain she would let them think anything. As long as they stopped trying to get answers out of her.

Klaus lowered to his knees in front of her, his eyes wide and watery. He scrubbed his face, rough with his sleeve, and carefully, slowly, reached out to her lax hand. His fingertips brushed across the back of her knuckles, then curled around her palm.

"It's alright," he murmured, barely on a breath. "No harm will come to you now, Tatia. Sleep."

And Elena... well. Mikeal couldn't hurt her when they were all there, could he?

Would he?

Esther gave her the tiniest smile at the panicked flick of her eyes, trying to see the taller Viking without lifting her wounded skull.

"It will be best for you to sleep off the pain," she was told by the mother. "He will stay away. I promise you."

She fell asleep with Klaus' gentle stroking of her knuckles.


	13. Mastered

Elena was turning through the trees, dress gathered in her hand, Elijah hot on her heels, when she realized how much fun she was having. She only noticed because the part of her brain now trained in evasive tactics was vaguely annoyed that she couldn't stop giggling long enough to lose him.

She put her hand out and used a tree as an anchor to take her momentum and turn her trajectory all the way around, making Elijah swear in his native tongue and double back.

He caught her because she was breathless from laughter, tagging her shoulder with a quick tap.

"The water," he puffed, hands to his knees. "Was a good choice."

She leaned her back to a tree and tilted her head back, like that would help her breathe more, somehow. Her boots were soaked through, the hem of her dress littered with little flecks of water, but she'd lost him solidly for a while. Long enough to put real distance between them.

That had been fun. But being in his company was proving much more fun.

It was an uncharacteristically bright day in the winter. There were clouds, but they were all white, fluffy, covering most of but not the entire sky. She leveled her breathing and saw him, red faced and beaming at her, quickly ducking his head.

"What?" she wanted to know. "What is it?"

"You looked happy," he told the ground, and stood, holding his side, still breathing hard.

She quirked her mouth at him.

"Not miserable, no."

"It was good to see," he said mildly. "I know my sister chafes you, sometimes, but she does want you to be happy."

Rebekah had been very good to her. Elena recognized her as a friend. She'd gone through every life hack at least twice - despite her eviscerating patience. When Elena started getting period pain, she'd been the most sympathetic, and helpful, quietly going to her mother for a particularly lifesaving plant - which Elena now knew how to find, grind up, and take to remedy her ailments. They had progressed to share a fur, at night, spooning, trapping warmth between each other, so of course they knew little details about each other that most people didn't.

Rebekah snored. Elena drooled.

But to be in someone's company for so much of her time, yes, they did chafe at each other. They bickering was nothing like with Caroline or Bonnie... but it was a lot like what she used to have with Jeremy.

"She's like a sister to me," she realized softly, and wrapped her arms around her middle. "I don't know what I would've done without her. She's more loving than I remember her being."

His smile was wide, crinkling his eyes. It was coming up to his 30th birthday, soon. Henrik had been talking about fletching special arrows for his bow, and Klaus had been carving the second incarnation of it for a week. Rebekah had made the wire, painstakingly twisting and twisting until her fingertips bruised, while Kol was planning something secretive and Finn had procured a short book of poems.

"She looks on you the same," he told her warmly. "I heard her tell my mother so."

Elena wasn't sure what she thought of Esther. She included Elena into her family fold only insofar as making sure she was healthy and whole beyond the whole - kidnapped and memory lost thing - but she didn't really spend any time with her, despite Elena being pretty sure that she was being groomed for Elijah's wife.

She pushed off the tree, surprised to feel a smile, noticing his hand still braced on his side. He had a stitch, she knew, but she'd been a cheerleader for most of her time in the last few years and was a runner. She could still do the splits and a back flip, though a front flip might've been tricky in the dress. A stitch, though, she knew better than to sit still.

"Walk it off," she said with a smile, and playfully bumped his shoulder with hers on the way past. She could tell where the village was in relation to where the sun was, these days, so he didn't have to helpfully guide their direction every few feet. They walked side-by-side, quiet.

It was nice.

"I'm not sure there is much more I can teach you in the way of evasion, Tatia," he admitted carefully. "Today is proof that you're capable of getting away. I only caught you because..."

"Because I couldn't stop laughing?" she teased, and started giggling again. "I got bored. You were taking too long."

He chuckled.

Elena had woven a bunch of little arrows out of twigs and strands of her own hair, and left them in her wake, having so much time to herself that she led him toward her with a trail. She had been setting up another handful in various trees when he came at her, thundering, face flushed with more embarrassment than heat.

It felt nice to have a one up on him, actually. 

But to lose it? This was the only thing in her day that she looked forward to.

She had chores, of course; collecting water, mending things, occasionally helping Esther gather herbs, but the time she spent with Elijah was fun. She couldn't give it up.

"What about..." she said slowly. "Instead of not... doing this, we just - revisit what the purpose was?"

"How do you mean?" His stitch was abating. He had his hands behind his back, conscious to stay out of touching distance until she let him.

"Well, I can run," she reasoned. "From just you. In this area that I'm familiar with. But if I get caught, that's - that's different. If someone ties me up, or tries to - I don't know, get me with a knife. What do I do?"

He stopped walking, concerned, blinking at her.

"You still feel frightened," he said softly. "That someone will come for you?"

No, actually. She'd seen the men train. Mikeal alone was vicious and powerful with a sword - Elijah was fast and lean - Klaus was a ball of fury, and he would be a handful if he wasn't consistently being hit by his father. She couldn't imagine anyone else being any better than the men in their village.

"You said my first lesson was in determination," she said with a smile. "You told me that, if I wanted to escape more than they wanted to catch me, I could make it happen, right?"

"It's true. And here you are, having me run in circles," he teased. "Though I hope you realize it's not for lack of trying on my part."

"No, I know." She aimed her smile at her boots. "It's just that - you said it was the first lesson. What comes after determination?"

"Anticipation," he replied, nodding slowly. "Collecting information and what you suspect the enemy will be thinking. Then you can circumvent it."

"Exactly. So I'm good at the running; the determination part. But in the circumstance that my fear is outweighed by their skill and I don't manage to get away, I'll probably get tied up, right?"

He took in a big breath.

"Yes, it's likely that is what can happen."

 _There were other things that could happen_ , remained unsaid between them. _What happened to you, for example, to make you bruised and bleeding and naked in the woods?_

"Could you teach me how to get out?" she prodded, tucking her hair behind her ear.

He swallowed, ducked his eyes to the ground.

"I'm not sure I want to see you restrained, Tatia," he lowered his voice. "Let alone by my own hand."

"Elijah..." she reached for him, touched his shoulder lightly, making his dark, dark eyes flick up to her face. She chewed her lip, still biting down when she gave him a smile. "I wouldn't ask anyone else. I trust you."

God, his _eyes_. He was so regimented in his face that learned control from his father to keep his emotions in check. But there was such a heat in his eyes, so warm and chocolatey, and he was looking only at her.

At who he thought was Tatia, given, but it still spoke volumes.

"Alright," he said simply. "If you want it."

"I do." She wanted to spend more time with him.

"We'll start tomorrow."

"Yes. Good. I'm... I'm glad, Elijah." She was still touching his arm. She hadn't noticed, but his darting glance toward the touch told her that he must have.

The burn of his skin lingered under her fingertips the entire walk home.


	14. A Kindness

Elijah's birthday was met with his brand new family-crafted bow and arrows. The book of poetry that Finn had given him was a little banged up from a previous owner on the road, but with English words being so rare, it was kept in the wooden box that Esther spelled to be waterproof and airtight.

Elijah was _jolly_ , in a word. There had been drinking and dancing around the fire and he had done most of it. Now, Elena was aware that there was usually drinking and dancing around the fire, but tonight it was in Elijah's honor, so that made it somehow different for her to enjoy.

She was sitting with Rebekah and Erik, chatting intermittently, a cup of alcohol nursed between both hands. They might've been flirting around her head, which was fine, because Elena couldn't take her eyes off of the birthday boy.

He was glowing under the collection of his family, with Henrik explaining the many pains it took him to dye the feathers neatly and then to bind them right. Elijah's arm was around his littlest brother, cup in hand, listening with a soft smile.

"You could just go and wish him well," Rebekah said slyly. "He is, after all, your sweetheart."

"Nice try," Elena teased, and knocked her knee into Rebekah’s. "But I think I'll stay around you for a little while yet."

Erik had quite a reputation with wooing ladies. Rebekah was not ready to be left mercilessly to his charms.

"My mother is already observing, thank you," she said crisply.

Elena spotted her, standing just off from her family, staring with intent. There was a small communication of lifted brows and quirking mouths between them, and Elena got off the log to approach the woman.

"How are you?" Elena asked first.

"Enjoying the night," Esther said with a smile. "Thank you for minding Rebekah."

"It's not her I was minding, truthfully," Elena drawled, and arched her eyebrow across the space at Erik, who was inching ever closer to the Mikealson daughter. "She's too sweet for him."

"She's too sweet for anyone," Esther agreed. "But I'll always think that."

Elena heard the joke for what it was, so she gave it a little laugh. She sipped her drink and found her eyes on Elijah, who was still listening to Henrik, but beaming at her.

"He adores you so," Esther mentioned.

Elena didn't know what she could say to that. Elijah unwound his arm from his brother, as though preparing to stand, but Elena shook her head at him.

 _I'm fine_ , she thought over the fire. _Don’t worry about me. Enjoy your night_.

"Do you think he's too sweet for anyone, too?" Elena said, only half playfully.

Esther thought for a long moment.

"Klaus is," she said thoughtfully. "He feels things deeply, and his manner is to react on his impulses. It makes his temper horrible, but it also makes his love great. He has always been that way; leaning heavily in one mood or the next."

Elena agreed with a nod. Sipped her drink. It was strong, and she hadn't drank in months.

"All my sons are so different," she went on. "Kol has always been blasé about his relationships, but his love for life and fun is what he chases. He will need something special within his partner to keep him grounded - he's rather in the air. Finn, he's so - placid, when it comes to women, it makes it hard for him to forge connections when he appears so disinterested. Henrik is too young to implement his feelings, but I know that when the time comes, he will be a romancer. He's a gentle boy."

Elena had seen it, the way Henrik had been around girls his own age. There was a girl whose name Elena wasn't sure of, but he picked her flowers every time he found them, just because they were pretty and he wanted to share them.

It was this story Elena told his mother, feeling warm and hazy, so fond of the youngest Mikealson in that moment she could've burst.

Esther smiled, and it might've been the only real smile Elena had seen from her.

"But Elijah, his love is more than romance," she said knowingly. "He will love you until his last day. It isn't within his heart but his marrow; once you're there, you're there forever, no matter the means in which you arrived there."

It was why he'd only ever been friendly with her, once she had 'returned'. He'd never said a single word about pursuing a sexual relationship or what they had been before. He'd accepted that Tatia was home, she didn't want to be touched, and she wasn't seeking him out, so he would leave her be. Until she asked, he had withdrawn.

"He's a good man," Elena said softly.

"The best of men," Esther agreed, and pressed a hand on her shoulder for a soft rub. "And he wants you, above everyone else."

"I am not," Elena said, breathless. "The best of women."

"Perhaps not to your mind," the mother agreed, still rubbing her shoulder. "But you are to his."

* * *

It was freezing, freezing cold, and very, very dark.

She'd heard Kol and Elijah singing merrily and Niklaus swearing in his native tongue as something tipped over with a loud thud. It was in Rothchil's hut, the one just outside Elena's tent.

There was a loud shout of pain, and honestly, everyone else was so drunk that no one would've heard or cared.

Elena, passingly tipsy, but drunk enough, decided it would be a good idea to detangle from Rebekah’s back and steal a fur, wrapping it tightly as she padded the trodden path to his hut, pushing open the door to step inside and shut it quickly behind her.

The boys all stopped still, looking guilty. They were helping Elijah up into a chair, hands under his biceps and pits. Klaus blinked owlishly at her. Kol swallowed and then cracked a grin.

"Well, happy birthday to _you_ , brother," he said, and clapped him on the back.

Elena scrunched her nose at him.

"I heard a yell," she clarified. "There is no birthday related happenings in here."

"We're not doing that," Elijah confirmed, smiling dazedly up at his brothers.

"Why? All the merrier birthday, I say, and you didn't even give him anything-" Kol teased, then danced away from Elijah who went to whack him hard with his elbow.

The force took him out of his own chair, but Niklaus was still holding his other side, and he swung out of the seat and onto a knee, one side held up by his brother.

Kol gave her head a swift kiss on the way past, and Elena did whack him on the arm, a hard smack that echoed in the room and earned her a shout as he darted out the stairs. She rolled her eyes - Kol was exactly what she imagined Loki was like - and moved forward, woozy, but steady enough to take Elijah's free arm and help Klaus get him back on the chair.

Her hand came back sticky - he was bleeding behind his elbow. Covered in dirt, it looked like at some point in the evening he'd fallen over, but couldn't feel the pain for the booze.

He was smiling up at her as she inspected his elbow, bending it carefully as she could to see the wound.

"Hello there," he said softly.

It was a long ago echo that rang in her head. He'd said that when he'd first met Elena of a thousand years in the future. Had he guessed who she was? Would he know then that Tatia was not herself?

She swallowed.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" she wanted to know. Her hand kept shut the fur around her shoulders, but underneath was the sheer white nightdress. The nipply one with the V cut in the front that she could never lace properly. If she had been back in the future, it was the exact version of the bodice ripper dress she imagined would've been involved in such a scene.

"No," he said, somewhat dreamily.

"His knees," Klaus supplied. "And one of his hands, too."

"I'm perfectly whole and well," Elijah tried to tell his younger brother sternly. It was somewhat diminished by him becoming distracted by the blood on the hand of which he pointed at Klaus, crusting under his nails and down his wrist. "Oh. Perhaps… not entirely… whole."

"How?" she said with good humor, looking around the home. "Did this even happen?"

"He fell over twice," Klaus muttered. "Because Kol stole his new bow and they went off in the woods."

Elena stared at him.

"You _what_?"

"I didn't do it." Klaus held up filthy hands at her, the same dried dirt on Elijah's clothes. "Finn and I went to retrieve them both before the wolves could come."

"Elijah," she said firmly, and took his chin in her hand, forcing his attention from scowling at Niklaus to blinking innocently.

"He had my new bow," the birthday boy said in soft defense. "Don't be cross with me, Tatia."

"I will be cross with you," she said, pursing her lips. "All the times you've warned me out of those woods by myself, and you go completely drunk in the dark the night before a full moon? With no weapons, and bleeding?"

"I had a weapon." He swallowed. "Well, Kol had it. That's why I was there."

"He wouldn't have ran if you hadn't chased him."

"Do you run so I can chase you?" he wanted to know, eyes wide and blinking.

Elena caught the breath in her throat, flicking her eyes at Klaus.

No one really knew what they did in the woods - they knew that the both of them often came back exerted, red-faced, with twigs and leaves in interesting places. The addition of the rope in the past few days had raised several eyebrows. But Elena had never been asked directly, so she assumed that Elijah had explained.

"He's teaching me," she said softly. "How to escape."

"She's very good," Elijah conceded.

"I'm only good because we're working on it." She sighed, realized her hand was on his face, no longer just his chin - her whole palm pressed against the stubble on his cheek - and he was leaning into it, eyes at half-mast. As kindly as she could, she removed her hand, and turned her back to hike up her fur.

The hut was often inhabited by Klaus when his father kicked him out. It belonged to one of the rangers who went in search of trade, who was currently not there. It would be a good place to dry Elijah out for the night instead of sending him back, sick, to the room he shared with the rest of his family - barr Rebekah.

Still, his wounds needed washing. It wouldn't do to have Elijah be catching some horrible ancient infection and dying before he got turned into a vampire. She got out a bowl and strips of clean cloth, followed by one of Esther's pastes found in a chest.

"I'll replace them," she told herself more than the boys. "Klaus, do you want to stay here with Elijah and I'll get water?"

"You've not even got shoes on, love," he said softly. "I'll get the water."

"No way," she said, wobbling over to the unlit fireplace. She wasn't great at lighting fires. "It's freezing out there. And in here." She sat down hard, and didn't mean it.

There was a sigh.

"Give me a moment," he said. "I'll be back."

"Wait-" She pulled off her fur and held it up to him. "You'll freeze, Klaus."

"I'll be fine."

"Maybe I should come with you." She frowned, and put her hand up on the wall to give her legs a little support while she tried to stand. The fur slid out of her hand and hit the floor with a puff, and she sat again.

"Maybe I'll be fine, and much faster by myself," he reasoned, and headed over to her, plucking the fur off the floor and winding it around her shoulders. He helped her stand up and sat her at the table next to Elijah, who was watching them all the while. "I'll bring some back for you, too."

"I'm not bleeding."

He smiled, and touched her chin.

"No, but you are a little unsteady. It'll help."

"I'm not drunk," she said quickly, and pointed at Elijah. " _He's_ drunk."

"I am not," he protested. "Brother, I am not drunk, _she's_ drunk."

Klaus shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Gods help me," he muttered. "You two just continue over this conversation and I'll be back within moments."

“I’m not even drunk, Klaus,” she told his retreating back, then looked at Elijah.

He looked tired, although it was contented. He had his fist up under his chin, the bloody scratch on his elbow thickening with blood enough that it had stopped spreading through the fabric. One of his knees was in her line of sight, and it too, was dirty and bloody.

She barely even noticed Klaus shutting the door behind him.

"Did you have a good birthday?" she asked to fill the silence.

"Yes." He had this soft, tiny smile as he gazed at her. And he _was_ gazing. It wasn't at all structured. Every facet of his face was purely content to sit there and stare at her, and think his thoughts. "I saw you having a good time. It puts my heart so easy in my chest when you smile."

She ducked her eyes for a split second, because there was a dangerous idea on her brain and she was pretty sure she was going to do something about it.

"You're-... so kind, Elijah," she muttered. "And you've spent so much of your time and energy on me recently."

"It isn't a hardship," he said.

"But it does take away from things you'd rather be doing," she protested.

"Whatever you think I'd rather be doing, please let me assure you, I'd prefer to spend all my waking moments with you," he said mildly. "In any capacity."

"Even if it isn't-?" She stopped, bit her lip, and pulled the fur tighter around herself. "You know..."

"What?" He reached out as though he meant to take her hand, then unsubtly aborted the motion halfway through and directed it on the table, letting his arm thunk down lazily. "What is it?"

"Well…" She swallowed, feeling her face flush. "You know that I have been distant..."

"You're entitled to be anything you feel."

"But don't you wish that I -... was... like before?"

"No," he said simply. "You're more now."

She took his fingers.

"Even if we aren't...?" She needed to know. She couldn't imagine what was going on in his head, when the love of his life only wanted to more or less play tag around a forest with him, to put her kidnap paranoia at ease. "Together... physically?"

"Tatia, my darling," he said warmly. "We've spoken about this."

She blinked at him, and put her palm into his, ignoring the heat of all the blood there.

"We have?"

"Yes." His eyes were glittering. "If you do not want me to love you with my body, then I will not want for it. If you want kisses, or if you want caresses, then I will want them too. As it stands, all you want right now is for me to tie you up. So that is what I want."

She bit her lip, and gently stroked the sides of his hand, where it wasn't bleeding.

"You're a good man," she said, for the first time to his face.

"I'm as good as I am able," he said softly.

"Then you're better than the best." She smiled. "There are a hundred other ways this whole mess could've gone. But I like this way."

"I don't know what you mean when you say this was a mess," he beamed, touched the inside of her wrist with her fingertips. "But if I've made you happy, that is all I can hear."

And Elena - even in her nipply dress with the deep v and the cold floor - she made her dangerous idea a dangerous decision. It was innocent in the moment. It was only ever supposed to be a kindness, an affection. Who would ever know? It would never eventuate into anything. Stefan was - a far, far away dream. He wasn't even born, yet, so how could it matter to him?

She got up from her chair, still holding his hand, and bent to press the tiniest of kisses to his lips.

His inhaled sharply through his nose, and pursed his lips just a touch. When she withdrew, his dark eyes flicked between hers as though he read for something unsavory to happen in her mind - as though he would be the catalyst to her emotional turmoil. When she only smiled down at him, he softened, squeezing her wrist.

"I'm glad," she whispered. "That you had a happy birthday."

"The happiest I can remember," he whispered. "Not because you kissed me. Because you _trust_ me."

"I've always trusted you," she confessed, and touched his face with her free hand, stroking his strong cheekbone. His lashes fluttered, and he leaned into it. "You're the only one I could even think..."

She heard footsteps outside the hut, and Klaus was back with a pail of water.

Elena made herself remove from his immediate presence to prepare the paste and strips of cloth, getting on her knees to roll up Elijah's pant legs and clean the dirt from him in _silence_.

* * *

God, he was just so _beautiful_.

She remembered thinking, _has he always been so handsome? So striking?_

"I don't see it, personally," Rebekah had lamented, her own eyes fixed on the current man of her affections. Erik was taller than a tree, with blonde hair swept loosely over his ear, a mighty smile as he stood against Finn in training. "I think he's too short."

"He's short next to Finn," Elena replied, following Elijah's steps. He fought as though in a dance, every move calculated. Agnar, against him, was much larger and much angrier - but he never stood a chance against Elijah's quick thinking.

"He's short even next to Klaus," Rebekah teased. "And Klaus is short next to Finn, who is short next to my lovely Erik."

"Erik is the tallest man in the village," Elena scoffed. "You might as well not see how handsome your brother is because his hair is dark next to yours."

"But not next to yours," she teased, continuing to twist the twine that would go into a bow.

Elena tried to copy at the same speed, but wasn't having any of the same success. What she did have was the beginning, and that was better than last week, when she couldn't get even that right.

"Erik keeps looking over here," Elena muttered. "He's going to get hurt if we stay."

"Elijah doesn't get hurt, and he has barely looked at Agnar twice while we sit," Rebekah said coolly. "If my man can't fight and gaze, than he isn't much of a man."

"Not next to mine," Elena said, pleased with herself.


	15. The Games We Play

She had won her first game of capture the flag. A great big smile crossed her face, and she put her hands on her hips, breathing hard, moseying up to the scrap of fabric with intentions to simply walk up to it and snatch it from the peg.

"Today's lesson," Elijah said mildly, making her jump and spin to turn him. "Letting your enemy perceive their victory before it is truly theirs."

She raised a brow at him, then over her shoulder.

"It looks to me like I'm a lot closer to winning than you are," she said, matter-of-factly.

He smiled.

"Yes. That would be the point of the lesson, Tatia."

"Are you telling me," she said innocently, backing toward the flag, and her victory. "That we're enemies, Elijah?"

He lifted a shoulder, and made the smallest possible effort to close their distance with a single step. She eyed the stray leaf in his hair, and snorted indelicately at him, taking another lazy step away.

"You couldn't catch me," she guessed. "Now you're trying to talk your way out of it because I'm going to win."

"I couldn't catch you," he agreed. "In fact, I very truly lost you. We've been working on the understanding of anticipation, as you know. I knew that you were looking for the flag, and if I were looking for you-"

"If you found the flag first, you wouldn't find me, because I'd find you." She smiled, shook her head at the sky. "That's clever. Simple, but clever."

"Thank you," he said, a slow smile moving on his mouth. He took three very quick steps forward, and Elena darted back, her hand closing around the flag a split second before she was yanked high into the air, legs crushed in a net.

She swung for a minute, grappling within the net, before moving her hair out of her mouth with her arm and scowling down at him.

"You could've given me a heart attack," she scolded.

"I did forewarn you, the lesson to be imparted." He folded his arms across his chest. "You didn't heed me."

"Trust me," she drawled, and grabbed the rope to see him clearly, pulling it to press her cheek to the rough flax. "I'm heeding now."

He chuckled, and moved to slowly undo the binds, lowering her to the ground with his arms flexing hard in his shirt. Once she was on the forest floor, she tossed off the ropes, and got into standing before he could offer his hand.

"Yes, yes, you're very tough. The only thing is," she said, and held up the flag between them. "I still won."

The laugh that shook him broke across his face like a bolt of lightning, and struck her just as bright. There were dimples, there, in his face, tucked at the hollows of his cheeks, only visible at his truly wide smile. His jaw was fascinating, really, when he wasn't being so somber.

"That you did!" He clasped his stomach, wiped the other hand over his mouth, and crinkled his eyes at the corners, still mirthful.

"I don't think it's funny!" she accused, and gave his arm a playful swat with the flag. "We've been working on this for weeks."

"If you told Kol he'd be devastated. The last game he won against me, we were children. You're cleverer than you let anyone know," he told her fondly.

"Everyone else believes me. It's you that won't give up," she teased, and then bit into her smile.

There was only a moment, but she'd been having fun with him. It was weird. It felt wrong, but only because she had Stefan lingering in the back of her head. She'd been there for five months and a handful of days, but still no sign of her imminent rescue, or the medallion, or the spell marker. She had to play Tatia's part for just a little longer.

Elijah gave her plenty of time to move, broadcasting every step he took toward her. He was smiling faintly, just the tiniest curl of his mouth - the dimples were gone.

"I'll never give up on you," he told her gently. "Whatever happens. Where ever we are."

When he lifted a hand to her arm, she let him place it. It was the only physical touch she'd let him take the lead on since she'd taken his arm to scatter from his sister and mother. Even that seemed to please him indefinitely. He made no move to push it, simply touching her arm, before withdrawing his hand.

* * *

She never even saw it coming.

The touches were only ever innocent, in the beginning.

He'd reach over and offer his hand while they climbed over the wet leaves and sticky mud, then put his thumb in his belt and keep his hands to himself. On the common occasions she ended up falling to the ground or getting stuck in a tree, he'd pick her up or help her down.

And Elena... she read into it, knew he was capable of much, much more. She'd been kissed when he thought she was Katherine, after all, so she knew he was affectionate, but he never pushed. He only established that she would allow him to touch her, and then decided that was enough.

But she was affectionate too.

She was beginning to lose track of the months. Closer to six than five, but the fact remained that she had been there far too long. She was only supposed to observed through Tatia's eyes, and yet, she was there, wholly and solely herself. She knew the body she was in couldn't be Tatia, with a modern birth control in her arm that regulated otherwise horrific periods.

She was so lost in thought she hadn't even seen the end of Henrik's part in the performance he and his friends were staging for the family. She was so caught up within her own thoughts and the cold, that she didn't realize she had leaned into Elijah's arm.

He was stiff as a board when she glanced at him, staring forward with glassy eyes. The kids were doing a staged sword fight, something very dramatic that made everyone cheer with good humor, but Elijah didn't move an inch.

She looked down and saw his hands were in fists on his knees. Not white knuckled, but clearly trying to refrain from upsetting the moment.

Elena felt every second that she was there, was another second he lost his Tatia. Whatever he, and the rest of the village thought had happened to her, everyone knew she was only taking time to be with him. Erik and Agnar were still - around, she knew, still watching her relentlessly - but even they'd backed off when it became apparent that she only had eyes for him.

She reached out and took the hand closest to her, smoothing out his wound fingers into something more relaxed.

He looked down and watched her organize his calm, then glanced up at her face. There was such a hope in his eyes, it lit him inwardly. He watched her expression while he wrapped her hand in his, just loosely.

 _Room to move_ , Bonnie's voice said in her head, wise and sure. _He's giving you room to move._

Only she didn't move. She turned up her wrist and linked their fingers instead.

He released a breath, smiled softly at her, and let her pretend to watch the rest of the play.

* * *

"Your conduct with my son," came Mikeal's cold drawl. "What is it?"

Elena whirled to stare at him.

"No," she said flatly.

"I beg your pardon?" he replied, oddly quiet, though no less dangerous.

"No," she repeated. "Not even you are that blunt."

"I am, and I asked you a question." He strolled forward like he meant to make himself look less intimidating, but each step placed with purpose; the same way a stalking lion might approach a wide-eyed gazelle.

"What I do or don't do with Elijah is none of your business," she tried to say. She got about halfway through ' _business_ ' and he was up in her space. Too hot, and too close, and too invested in her mouth, which faltered on her words and forgot how to make noise.

"You will tell me," he said darkly.

She took a step back, and effectively braced against the wall of Tatia’s house.

"Why?"

"Because I want to know."

"Why?"

"Because I should know," he snapped. "I should know what my son is doing in those woods with a pretty girl for all the spare hours in his day."

She frowned at him.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "What Elijah and I-"

He slammed his hand down above her head, and made her quieten with a hard flinch. He bent his head, too reminiscent of the time Elijah had smelt her throat. His breath carried the traces of the fresh loaf that Esther had made, and Elena’s body burst into goose bumps – it had been the same scent she’d enjoyed about Elijah a handful of minutes ago. Now it was sour, somehow.

"It matters."

There was no room for argument. She wanted to hit him in his stupid scowling mug, but she had the distinct impression that would be a Bad Idea. So instead of acting on the impulse, she thought it through, pausing so long that he stared to breathe in deeply to try and keep control of his temper.

He lifted his head to look into her eyes, and a hand caught her jaw, grubby paw holding her still as she jerked her head to the side.

“Mikeal, stop it,” she said, and tried to bat his hand away.

He leaned on the arm over her head, and did not let her face go.

“What is the nature of your conduct with my son?” he demanded.

"I don't know," she said, and shoved his hand from her face. He let her go. She took a fortifying breath. "We spend time together."

"Doing," he said through his teeth. "What?"

"We walk around. We talk." She swallowed.

“Talk about what?”

“I don’t know-“ she started to say, but under his glare, added on: “Everything? Nothing? We just _talk_.”

“What purpose does that serve?” His tone lowered, became so deeply set in his chest it vibrated against her ears like the gong of a drum.

He twisted her mouth at him, fully understanding his implication.

"I'm pretty sure he's in love with me," she told him firmly. “So perhaps the purpose is to simply be around me.”

He thinned his lips, and lifted his hand off the wall, but no less leaned over her.

"He's in love with you," he repeated.

"I think so."

"Are you in love with him?"

"Does it matter?"

He glared.

"You push me, Tatia," he warned. "I'd advise against it."

"I want to know why it matters if I love your son or not," she retorted. "It's not so difficult to imagine why I might be interested if you care-"

He grabbed her face with both grating hands and crushed a wet, hard kiss on her mouth. Both sets of fingers clawed her cheeks and he took another step forward, bumping her head against the wall of the hovel. She made a noise of protest that went unheeded, shoving him in the chest.

One of his palms cupped the back of her head and twisted into her hair, and he stepped forward to flatten her out between the line of his body and the entire wall, breathing hard through his nose.

She had both hands straining against his chest but he was a pillar of trained muscle and wouldn’t be moved. She twisted her face but his hands steered her back, ignoring the high-pitched: “ _Mikeal_!” she managed before he mashed her mouth once more.

So her urge to hit him in the face became an awfully quick reality.

And it was a good one, too, because not only did it catch him off guard, it sent him down on one knee.

Elena stared for a moment, mortified, her fingers pressing over her lips. She whimpered at the far-away look on his face as he touched the blooming red skin where she’d landed her fist, then pressed herself on the wall for support when he looked up at her.

“Tatia,” he said quietly. “Forgive me.”

She just stared.

He looked… wounded.

“Listen to me, girl,” he said, firming his voice, hand drifting from his face. “I lost my mind. It won’t happen again.”

He reached for her, and Elena wasted no time in skipping around that limb and broke into a sprint to get into public, to find someone, _anyone_ , that might keep his temper mild. When no one became apparent immediately, panic like she'd never felt filled her marrow.

 _RUN_ said all the voices in her head, so she bolted for the trees.

She ran and didn't stop until the falls were in view. She held her aching ribs and blinked sweat from her eyes, her chest hurting and thighs quivering from exertion of her speed.

Now she had a moment to herself, she could find Bonnie's marker. Or rather, she should’ve been able to, and finally go home.

But there was nothing there. No script. No clues. Not where Bonnie'd promised it would be. Was it washed away? Had it faded in the sun?

She splashed into the water - so much deeper than what she estimated, she sank up to her pits in freezing tide and nearly lost her footing to the rip. She managed to circle the stone, eyes darting the surface, but there was nothing there.

"What the hell, Bonnie?" she whispered, and pulled herself out of the water.

She sat on the rock, hugging her legs, still breathing hard. The wind was bitter to her newly dunked clothes and she used her dripping hands to smooth back her hair, trying to use the time to think.

How was she supposed to get home now?

Mikeal couldn't be a problem if she didn't have any alone time with him. She thought about telling Esther, but that didn't sit right with her either; not by the measure of her nobility, but by the measure of her fear. Would Esther blame her for Mikeal's crush?

How had _that_ even happened?

"Tatia?"

She spun on the rock, mortified at the sound of a male voice, but it was only Finn. Put instantly more at ease, she settled a hand over her throat.

"Finn! You scared me," she said. "Are you alright?"

"Father said you'd run into the wilderness," he said with a one shouldered shrug. "That you needed to be seen home safely."

"Oh," she said. She looked down at her wet clothes.

“Are you alright?” he tried.

“Y-Yes,” she said hastily. "Uhm. I was... just..."

"Playing catch with my brother?" His mouth quirked. "Do us both a favor, dear, and please spare me the details. Come along, now."

She hesitated. Her brain was a mess.

“Is-?” She looked up at him, his hand out to help her climb down from the rock, a little awkward, a little amused. Harmless Finn wouldn’t ever drag her back kicking and screaming. He was a gentle giant. Surely if Mikeal had told his son why she’d run, he wouldn’t look so mild? “Is your father… cross?”

“Cross? No?” His brow pulled together. “No, why would he be?”

She wet her lip. Thought she could taste his rasping mouth and flinched, swiping her coarse wet sleeve over her lips to try and rid herself of the taste.

“He…” she said slowly. “He’s not… coming after me himself, is he?”

“He only sent Niklaus and I,” Finn told her, and stepped a little closer. “Are you alright?”

“Yes!” she said quickly, and scooted to the edge of the rock. “Yes! Fine, I’m fine.”

“Are you certain?” He took her hands in his and helped her down from the stone. Once she was on the solid earth he removed his cloak and put it around her shoulders, tying it into a neat bow. “Is it my brother that gives you pause to come home? I can whallop him if you would like.”

“No,” she said, and curled her hands into the fur. “No, thank you. Elijah-… We’re friends. I’m fine. Thank you for… Thank you for the offer.”

“Of course,” he said gently, and bowed his head to her. “I am the oldest. I do take certain responsibility for my youngers. If you ever have need of me to intervene – I don’t think he’d ever take liberties with you, but if he ever so much as made you uncomfortable, I will give him such a tongue lashing.”

“Elijah is mindful,” she said with a small smile. _Your father, on the other hand_ …. “I’m fine, Finn. Thank you. Tell me, are you reading anything good, of late?”

He cut her a side-long look that rang a touch too amused to be truly affronted.

“Your attempt to distract me has been acknowledged,” he said. “And received. I am reading something good, as it happens; Bouldir’s ballads. Shall I regale you, Tatia?”

“Please,” she said with as much as a smile as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FEED AUThor 
> 
> Also ignore the books Finn reads (vikings were not that big on books but also I can't imagine him without one???)


	16. When You Win

Elijah put her hands behind her back and secured them, testing with his fingers that she had room to move. Then he strolled around her and leaned against the tree with his shoulder, flicking a lock of hair out of his eyes.

"You have four minutes," he said mildly.

She twisted the ropes around and found the loop easily. The hard part was figuring out which knot he'd used.

"Why four minutes?" she asked, thumbs trying to decipher the shapes of the rope.

"Why not four minutes?"

"What nefarious plans are these make pretend men going to come up with in four minutes?" She tugged on a loop but something wound tighter into place and she bit her lip, staring at him only because she was trying to envision the knots. Did she even know this one, or was he being tricky?

"Us men are notoriously simple," he said easily. "Perhaps they just want to sell you as a thrall."

Elena snorted.

"They could, but whoever is dull enough to buy me will want their money back," she muttered, though he heard, and laughed.

She shifted her elbows and found a little give in the rope when she pulled a certain way - the twisting against her wrists was leaving hot streaks, welcomed in the cold air. But she couldn't get loose the four loops firmly wound ropes around each wrist, so she struggled until he called time.

"What've you done here?" he wanted to know, pacing around her. “You’ve made a mess of my hard work!”

“I nearly had it!” she protested. (She had not.)

His fingers plucked at the ropes, barely brushing against her wrists. She tilted her arms back to put room between where her hands where and where her backside was, and unfortunately didn't give him enough warning, because her knuckles brushed against the front of his tunic - and the hard length of him.

She turned to him with her mouth opening to apologize, but his fingers were still caught underneath her bindings and his arm wrapped around her as she did do. She stumbled, his free hand caught her waist, and all of a sudden Elena couldn't feel the cold.

What she could feel was his heart, banging away in his chest. The length of him against her hip, unmistakably punching a breath out of his lungs when it found a spot to press between them. His heat, his tense body, the span of his hand on her ribs. His breath, his lips, his _eyes_.

She opened and shut her mouth.

His eyes went to it.

"Tatia," he said softly. Then shook his head and stepped around her, tugging loose the binds. He started off for home, winding the rope around his palm and elbow, ears reddening. "We should go."

Elena was floored.

Was that... a bondage kink? _Elijah_? Kinky? _Really_?

Well, she guessed that if she was inclined, it made sense that he was, too.

"I-..." She wanted to tell him it would be okay. That arousal was fine when he was looking at someone he clearly loved. "Elijah. Wait."

He stopped and turned a little, but focused only on the rope in his hands, winding it jerkily. His jaw clenched, and he swallowed hard, shaking his head in short movements.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he said flatly. "I hate to think of you -... We shall remain stopped."

"I don't want to stop," she said clearly. "I don't think there's anything wrong with you."

"To feel-... the way I feel." He narrowed his eyes at the floor. "To adore you, and want to protect you, and have you safe and free of harm; it's in direct conflict with this-... _Attraction_ , with the rope. I can't in good conscience allow it. I should've stopped it earlier, the same second I realized that I was - this way inclined. I-... Tatia, the depth of my apology can't be put strongly enough-"

"Don't apologize for wanting me," she said quietly. She was surprised that he stopped talking long enough to hear it. "That's not fair on you. You have feelings for me, and your body marks itself."

"It's not my kinder feelings I'm apologizing for." He dragged his eyes up to her face, all the blood gone from his cheeks. He looked ashen, shaky, and full of regret. Elena wondered what Tatia would think of his kink. "It's that I can't control the ones I don't like."

"You don't like to see me tied up?" She arched a brow and flicked her eyes to his belt. "Because it looks like it to me."

"Don't tease me," he said softly. "I feel like a monster."

"You're far from a monster, Elijah." She started forward, taking his hand, over the rope. He stilled his movements, but only looked at her hand over his. "I wouldn't trust a monster, would I?"

He swallowed.

"I don't _want_ to feel this way," he said. "When I see you - like that -"

"Is it the part where I'm tied up that's giving you the trouble?" She stepped in front of him as he made to escape, taking a determined step away. She tightened her fingers on his wrist, and he swallowed once more. "Or is it something else?"

"Tatia," he said, low. "We've stopped, and we shall remain stopped. That's it. I won't put you in such a crass position again. Not when my intentions are – less than honorable."

Elena caught the front of his tunic in her hand as he made to step away. She frowned up at him, studying his face - his panic, the fear in his eyes. He was so, so worried, that she would be appalled by him. He was turned on by some rope? Big deal.

Stefan had jacked it three times a day when she was on her period - and so had his brother!

"Tie me up," she said.

He blinked at her.

"What? _No_. Tatia, you're - you're gentle, you don't deserve these - _obscure_ , horrible -"

She took the rope out of his hands and quickly wound it around her own wrists in front of her. She tied it off by putting the final loop in and pulling it taut with her teeth, staring at him as she did so.

Then she pressed both bound hands to his chest - his thundering heart - and up onto his collar, her icy fingertips finding reprieve from the cold on his burning skin. He flinched, but made no move to leave.

"What part of your attraction to me, bound before you," she prodded. "Is the part that you find abhorrent?"

"You've been hurt before," he reasoned. "You've been hurt, and though I don't know the extent, I can guess. I don't want you to - relive, anything untoward, especially not on my behalf, for some - fleeting fascination."

"It's not like that," she said, clearly, making his body soften at the relief. "They didn't touch me, not like that. If that's what everyone thinks, they can think it. I don't care. But you should know. There are other reasons I don't talk about where I went or what happened. I never felt fear for my body, that much I know. I lost my clothes when you found me because they allowed me to bathe in privacy. And then I ran."

His eyes softened, and slowly, he reached to clasp her throat in his hands, softly stroking her pulse.

She smiled, tilted her chin up.

"So clever," he said. "So determined. How your spirit shines out of you."

"Talk to me, Elijah," she said. "Tell me what you're scared of. When you see me in these ropes, do you think I'll fall apart?"

He shook his head.

“So what do you like?” she asked softly. “What part of this makes you… feel, for me?”

"I only..." He breathed out, thumbs stilling on her pulse. "It's only that I-... I like to see you... struggle. But you trust in me. To make you vulnerable. I like that you - the fight, in you, your fire, it comes up at the surface, it reminds me how alive you are. But you allow me to - the fact that you allow _me_ to be the one who- who takes from you... _That_ is what I like. I know I'm awful. I know it's wrong-"

She curled her fingers in his tunic and pulled it down an inch to press a kiss on his chest, her cold nose finding the heat of his breastbone and staying put.

"I think you're wonderful," she told his heart, and pressed another kiss there, before putting his shirt right on his body and leaning back. It was a dangerous game, because he was clearly aroused and she had gone and pushed the button a little more, but she looked up at him with his fingers in his shirt and couldn't help but sigh, a little. "I think you're the best of men."

"May I kiss you?" he whispered, bowing his head to her mouth.

She thought she might die if he didn't.

* * *

"You can't go sneaking around," Rebekah scolded. "If my father finds out-"

"Then he'd best not find out," Elena retorted. "I've had no time to myself for three full days - I can walk the length of the village if I damn well please."

"You have so!" Rebekah accused, setting fists to her hips. "You have been off cavorting with my brother!"

"Elijah hasn't even been here," Elena said sharply.

"Elijah?" Rebekah scoffed. "No. Niklaus."

"Niklaus?" Elena repeated, and blinked at the blonde. "What cavorting have I done with Niklaus?"

"He's smitten by you," Rebekah said waspishly. "The same way they're _all_ smitten by you. You and he have been off flirting for weeks on end! Don't deny it!"

"What?" Elena said, and then found her temper. " _What?!_ Niklaus? I am not, and will never be interested in Klaus!"

"You moon over him," Rebekah snapped. "Even mother says he's obsessed with you!"

"Oh, what, because I'm not downright vile and nasty to him, I must be a terrible flirt?" Elena said, lifting her chin in challenge. "Well by that standard, Rebekah, you're no better than a down and out _whore_."

Rebekah's full lips popped open. For a second, she seemed to let that settle over her brain.

"How dare you!" she yelled.

"How dare I!" Elena shouted back. "How dare _I_?! You just accused me of flirting with Niklaus for being nice to him - and yet you, who actively chases any man who looks even remotely in your direction-!"

Tatia's parents came in to see what all the fuss was about. Rebekah said some more mean things and Elena gave just as much back, which was to say that the girls launched into a brawl in no time at all.

Elena was not sure how it ended up outside, but it did. She fell with Rebekah's hair in both her fists and Rebekah's claws in her shoulders, and they tussled on the ground. Rebekah climbed atop her and gave a loud smack that whipped Elena's head squarely to the side, her ear ringing with the force of the blow.

She saw quick shadows approaching and didn't know who they were, but understood they meant to break up the fight. So she got desperate, balled up her fist, and swung.

Rebekah's weight shifted hard to the side and then Elena crawled ungracefully over her. Rebekah elbowed her in the shoulder but Elena pulled her hair.

"ENOUGH," Tatia's father was saying, trying to haul Elena up by the waist.

She just dragged Rebekah's head with her. Rebekah turned in the dirt, her face screwed up in pain, and slammed her fist straight into Elena's nose.

It didn't burst or break, or even bleed, but the force was enough to make her let Rebekah's hair go. Tatia's father fell under the lack of resistance, and before Elena knew it she was up, bolting full tilt into the forest.

She ran and ran and ran, her feet hurting but mostly numb from cold. After a while she skidded out on the dark, icy earth, a hand clamped over her swelling nose.

"Ow," she said to herself, and rolled onto her ass. She inspected her hands for damage but felt mostly secure. " _Shit_."

The air was chilling the insides of her throat, but she sat there and soaked it in for a good few minutes, catching her breath. There was a cut on the inside of her ankle she was inspecting when the cool moonlight began to warm, and she realized a torch was being carried somewhere near her.

She quickly moved, backing herself into a tree, still sitting low to the ground. Her eyes narrowed against the new source of light and the wielder, who was lumbering forward, covered in thick leather and furs.

The person moved surely through this part of the woods, lifting the light high to shine it out. He did not pause his stride as he grew near, his gaze clearly sweeping around him at all times.

Elijah's face came into focus, and she released a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

_He's so young,_ jumped through her mind. The Elijah she knew in the 2000's was physically much older, marked by lines around his eyes and a slightly more narrow waist. This man walking by her was young. 

"Elijah," she said softly.

He turned to her immediately, eyes falling to the smear of blood on the inside of her leg. He unshouldered the great big fur from his shoulders and came to stand before her, stabbing the torch into the earth.

"You'll catch your death," he murmured, and settled the fur around her when she leaned forward. He dropped into a crouch, hands familiarly settling around her ankle to lift it to his intense stare. "It's not deep. Does it hurt?"

"No."

"It ought to," he told her sternly, putting her foot carefully back on the floor. His eyes were dark, his brow low, when he made eye-contact with her then. "You hurt my sister."

"I'm sorry," she told him. "And I'll apologize to her too. I don't know... I don't know what came over me. I think we've just spent so much time together-"

He sucked a breath through his teeth and cupped her face, turning her chin to the light.

"Gods above, your eye," he said.

"Yeah, she got me good," she said without thinking of the terminology. How wrong it sounded in their old tongue. Thinking quickly, she added: "She struck me true and well."

"Nothing broken," he told her, leaning a little closer to her. "But surely she's done you some damage. Your eye is coming up blacker than ashes."

"I can feel it blooming," she admitted. She chewed her lip as her eyes drifted to his mouth, so close, but not as close as she wanted it. His hands were so warm on her face, and she could taste the warm ale that laced his breath. She returned to looking up to his eyes and saw he had softened. "I didn't mean to hurt her, Elijah, really. I just wanted to go for a walk."

"She said as much," he informed her, letting go of her chin. He leaned back on his heels, his lips coming together. "And she was right to stop you. In nothing but your slip, Tatia? Not only are you ill-dressed for the weather, if my father finds out-"

"She said I've been flirting with Nik. That he's obsessed with me, and your mother thinks so too," she blurted. "Did she tell you that?"

He blinked once, processing.

"She did not say that, no."

"Do you think that?" she asked him, almost desperately. "That I go off flirting with Klaus?"

"No," he told her. "I don't think that."

"She said all the men-!" she stopped. She couldn't remember what Rebekah had said or implied, not really. She looked down to her hands, which were covered in blood. "It doesn't matter what she said. I know what _I_ said. And I deserved to be hit."

For a long second, Elijah said nothing, and Elena couldn't look at him. Then he settled on his rear, pulling his leather coat under him to protect from the cold ground. He looked at the top of her head while she fiddled with her fingers, rubbing the drying blood into her hands.

"I don't believe that," he said fairly.

"I called her a whore," she said boldly, glancing up at him to see his surprise. Before it morphed into disappointment or rage, she looked down again. "If you wanted to stop spending time with me, I would understand."

He didn't speak. Again, for a long time.

The blood was dry on her hands, rolling into balls, when he finally did.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

Elena looked up at him, eyes feeling wide.

He unclipped the clasp at his throat, and spread out his coat, indicating with a nod of his head that she should sit beside him.

Elena felt like she was moving through jelly, but she took that offered space, her butt thankful for the small amount of warmth it offered. She unwrapped herself from the fur he'd unloaded on her, and pulled it over both their legs, twining her fingers together on her lap under the hem.

"Rebekah has a cruel tongue when she pleases," he said finally. "You two are more and more sisters every day. Though you've been cruel to each other now, it isn't beyond me to understand why. What you said was not fair. But you did not deserve to be hurt. She admitted to me that she threw the first fist."

"I can't remember," Elena murmured.

"As is the way in battle," he shrugged. He waited until she peeked up at him to continue. "Sisters fight. You two will be fine."

"Will we be fine? You and I?" she asked quickly. Her every sense was enraptured by the heat of his arm. Even leaning into him fractionally was making her skin tingle. "Will you...? Do you still want to... spend time with me?"

His smile was small.

"I do," he told her quietly.

She couldn't help but beam back at him.

"Good. You're what I look forward to every day," she said absently. It was a thought she had not meant to share. She felt heat fill her face and looked down at the fur over her legs.

"Tatia..." he said, and then stopped. "Do you know how I found you tonight?"

"I left a trail," she said at once.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, you left no broken branches, and if you left a track I couldn't see it. No, I found you tonight because look where you've run to."

Elena lifted her eyes. In the dark, mindless with rage and adrenaline, she hadn't really known where she was going. But apparently her feet had; it was the spot they usually practiced their ropes. A tucked away piece of earth that meant to be private from prying eyes.

"I... _adore_ , the time we have," he said thickly. "I... If it was the last day on this earth, I would look here upon your glowing smile and walk gladly to Ragnarok."

She swallowed. Wow. This was... this was a lot. What exactly could she say to that?

"You knew I'd come here?" she said, a small, timid version of her voice.

"I had an inkling," he said agreeably. "I had a hope."

"What was your hope?" she asked, and looked at him, warm in the firelight.

He barely blinked, barely moved, but for his mouth to make the words.

"That you felt as I did," he admitted. He took in a shuddering breath. "That here is where you feel most safe and loved."

She wet her lips.

His gaze flicked down.

"Elijah," she whispered. "If you don't kiss me right now, I'm going to-"

She didn't bother finishing the threat, because he occupied her lips.

* * *

Time was a funny thing. She'd been in the past for so many months and yet she'd never accomplished much until she had kissed Elijah and then made love to him.

Letting him in, letting him touch her, letting him bring her heat, and stroke her face, and breathe her air?

Not difficult when he was just _so good at it_.

He was so kind and gentle, and boy, did he know what he was doing with a kitty!

Still, it was new. Too new.

Especially when he wanted to get under her skirt on fine day and she had just started her period. She didn't have words to explain - she was embarrassed, and not sure if he'd be okay with it or not. If Viking men even understood what was going on with The Business.

So she just said: "Let me show you something," bailed him up against a tree, and got onto her knees.

"Tatia," he said, bewildered, as she uncovered his length. "What are you-?"

She sucked him in, right to the back of her throat, and any noise he might've was made silent. She swirled her tongue around the still hardening cock, and bobbed her head a little, hollowing out her cheeks.

"Tatia," he said again, hands hovering by his ears. "I only meant to - ah! - I only meant - you don't have to - what are-?"

"You talk too much." She pulled off long enough to say. She lifted her hands to him and he gave over his own, chest heaving with each new breath he took. She pressed a kiss to the palm of each one, and then a kiss to the head of his penis. "So tell me what I want to hear. Tell me I make you feel good. Tell me you love my mouth. Tell me you don't want me to stop."

"I-" He flinched as she jerked him, rolled her wrist in the wetness from her mouth and made him exhale a sharp breath. "I was only going to kiss you - we were only going to go for a walk -?"

"Do you want me to stop?" she said, and stilled her hand, encircled just beneath the flared head of him. "I want you to paint my mouth with your mess. But I can stop, too."

He swallowed hard.

"Th-That's not what I said, exactly, but I- _Tatia_ -"

The more he filled her mouth the more she worked him over, mindful of teeth, always seeking what made him jerk or flinch. He especially liked when she tongued the small indent on the underside of the head, but not for long periods of time. She took his hands and made them into cups, guiding them to cover her cold ears. It was he that took the liberty of stroking her hair, threading his fingers through it to scratch against her scalp. It took her a handful of minutes to have him dig his hands into her hair, and his ass flex in her hands, shooting a load straight down the back of her throat.

His quaking thighs made her feel powerful. His hands gently stroking her face had her worshiped. After he had done spurting in her mouth, she kissed the trembles in his thighs and looked up at him through her lashes.

"When you can walk," she murmured, in between kisses, as she pulled up his trousers and fastened them before his clumsy hands could even attempt to. "Let me know."

* * *

Erik was sitting by her left side, but he'd long given up on trying to pursue her when Rebekah was there, willing and beautiful, loving his romantic attention.

And Elena, though surrounded by people, was thinking about Elijah's groan while he shuddered to completion, staying still as not to bump her throat.

It must've been in the way she looked at him across the flames, because he was suddenly smiling, every inch of it naughty.

She inclined her head to the area behind her home, and he nodded, watching her stand and maneuver around the people without being interrupted. Hardly anyone did, anymore, and Elena was grateful and worried at the same time. Was the damage she was doing irreparable, for Tatia to return to?

Hearing his footsteps crunching, she reached out in the dark and grabbed his shirtfront to pull him down for a kiss. She pressed her body to his, pressing her mouth to his cheek, then the hinge of his jaw. Her fingers stroking right over his heart, she leaned back until she found a wall, and braced against it.

"I can't stop," she whispered, dragging him over. "Thinking about you. Kiss me. I need your mouth on me."

She pulled him in and framed his face with her hands, found his mouth pressing butterfly kisses against her own. His hands felt huge in the dark, framing her waist, and carefully squeezing. He tasted like ale, like smoke from the fire. But why was he so gentle? Why was he not letting her taste his tongue?

"Please, kiss me. Don't make me beg," she whispered, smiling against his chin. "I need you."

She pressed her mouth to his more recipient one, and sighed happily as his tongue traced the length of her lower lip. When she stroked the panes of his face with her thumbs and angled her hips to catch his hardening body against her belly, she felt the deep creases around his mouth. Heard the low groan in his throat. A groan that didn't match Elijah's.

And he was tall. Too tall.

She applied only the slightest pressure to his head and he wrenched away, stumbling back several strides, into the spill of light from around the corner.

Mikeal.

She covered her mouth with her fingers, and for a second, he stood there, bewildered, staring at her in the shadows. He blinked a handful of times, took a step forward, then immediately back two quick steps. He shook his head like a dog ridding itself of water, then stalked off with his shoulders up and head down.

Elena ran all the way home.

* * *

"Am I determined enough for you yet?" she grinned at Elijah, jogging up to where she waited, the flag hanging lazily from her fingers. "Anticipating my every move has started to slow you down."

"You're very funny," he panted, and caught her face, hands sliding along her jaw to bring her into his space. They kissed, and she flinched when she realized she tasted his father. She reflexively tried to shake it away. "Tatia?"

"Hmm?" She lowered her lashes over her eyes to try and hide what he might see in them.

He let go of her face, and she hated that he was so careful with her. So she caught him in a hug to keep him close and keep his gaze away from his uncanny face reading, and ran her nails over his long hair.

"Am I qualified yet to ask what my next lesson will be?" she murmured, pressing her mouth against his throat, easing away the thick scarf that protected his neck from the bitter wind.

"Annihilation," he muttered. "Once you've weighed your enemies and understood their weaknesses, you can destroy them."

"Hm," she said shortly, dragging the cord in his tunic front out of the neat loop it was in. "Sounds like fun."

“Tatia?”

“Yes?”

“Are you undressing me?”

“Yes,” she said simply, and sucked softly against his revealed collarbone. When the center of his chest was bare, she kissed it, lingering as she tugged his shirt from being tucked under the tunic.

“Why?”

“Because I won the game,” she said, and leaned back to look at him, gazing adoringly down at her, his mouth in an amused line. “And you’re my prize.”

“Am I just a prize for you?” he teased.

“It’s an added benefit of being your friend,” she said, and slip her hands into his trousers, rubbing his shaft with long, gentle strokes.

“Did I not please you well enough last night?” he murmured, cupping her face. He kissed her mouth tenderly, and both her cheeks. “Did I leave you wanting, my poor, sweet Tatia?”

“I think,” she whispered. “You talk too much. And I’m not touching your boots, so you’d better get them off while I hang up my dress somewhere less muddy. Your mother gave me such an _eye_ yesterday-“

“Please don’t talk about my mother right now,” he said quickly, and kissed her mouth, regardless of her laughter.

It took less than two more kisses to forget Mikeal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REVIEEEWWWW


	17. Cause

Mikeal took her arm and dragged her into the forest line, his stride too long and determined for her legs to keep up with. She batted uselessly at his grip though he paid it no mind.

"You wish to keep Niklaus from further harm," he demanded of the tree line.

" _Let go_ ," she demanded, and he let her elbow go right as she tried to yank it from him, sending her falling to the floor. She got up, dusting off her skirt, and glared at him with fists by her sides. "Of course I don't want you hurting him!"

"You can pay," he said, too-calm and folding his arms across his chest. "With your kisses."

All her anger evaporated in the wake of the burst of shock she felt in its stead.

"What?"

"I will allow his mistakes without correction," he said again. His fingers linked into a single fist behind his back. "If you give me reason to stay my hand."

"No," she said shortly. The weight of what he was suggesting settled in her mind; she could stop him from half killing Klaus every time he misstepped? She could put an end to his brutal misery? "Wait. I don't-... I don't understand. Explain."

"I have long since been rid any such desire for women," he said thoughtfully, eyes boring bright blue bolts into her skin as they flicked from her eyes to her mouth and then her chest. "I thought I was beyond the point in my life where having any more children was an option. But you have unearthed in me a more basic instinct -"

"Okay, that's enough explaining!" she bit back. "Whatever is in your own head is your fault, Mikeal."

He snapped his fingers at her.

"That's how you did it," he said lowly. "With your mouth, saying my name. I never had any such urges, until you said my name like that."

"Like what?" she muttered. "It's your name. How else should I have said it?"

"Not at all," he said lowly, taking a purposeful step toward her. "You never spoke it before I found you. I had seen you, bare as the day you were born in the woods, and never once stirred. I never thought of you as anything other than a means to continue my bloodline with my son."

She stepped back.

His stride, while slower, was longer, and predatory. The dangerous waves she felt orbiting around him became a crashing tide.

"But now," he continued, stalking forward. "Now I've _tasted_ you. The kiss I stole from you; that should've been enough. But I did steal that kiss, and I didn't want that bitter taste of your non-compliance any more than the next man; I had resolved never to think of you in such a manner again. But when you mistook me, Tatia, when you pulled me to you in the dark, and spoke such desperate words against my skin..."

He appeared to shiver.

Elena stopped stepping back because the ground was beginning to incline, and any more would mean she was going to be scrambling upwards, backwards. He seemed to take this as a sign to stop walking forward, though, so she counted her blessings.

"I returned to my wife. I lay with her for the first time in years. Now we have hope for another child," he went on, eyes dragging the length of her without shame. "All I want is your kiss. That is enough. I take your kiss, and I leave to find my wife, and make due with the restlessness you conjure."

"And you want me to do this," she said, deceptively casual. "So you stop beating Klaus?"

"Your mouth, Tatia, will solve this entire dilemma." He put hands on his chest, then gestured to her. "Penance paid to me. Your gentle nobility put at ease. If you urge him to be better in your way, he will be better for you. Safer in battle. Better able to protect his own back and his own family. You give me these kisses, Tatia, and my temper will stay mild if I know that there is good enough recompense for my patience."

"Just. Stop. Being. Horrible," she demanded of him, and immediately ducked and darted forward under his snake-like snatch for her hair. He'd guessed she'd go backward but not under his arm, so he swung wide and missed her by a decent arm length.

She managed to get quite a bit of space between them, putting a tree in his way, peeking out from behind the body of it.

He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder.

"You reject me," he said bluntly.

"I'm with Elijah," she hissed at him. "I'm with your _son_. He adores me. And you - you're married-!"

"My wife only sings when she is happy," he drawled, turning to face her fully. "And she has not sung since Henrik was born, but she hums melodies today, because of me. Because of you."

"If she ever found out-" Elena said desperately.

"Yes, she could likely turn you into a toad," he grinned at her, the only semblance of a smile she'd ever seen on him. "So you'd best never threaten me about it again, hm?"

* * *

Elena's arms were up above her head, hooked on too sturdy a branch for her to pull herself loose. Her arms were left up for so long that her hands were tingling, deprived of blood flow, and no amount of trying to pull herself loose was working. She glared at her captor, twisting on the tips of her toes, just barely braced on the ground.

And Elijah sat there, just out of kicking reach, peeling an apple with a knife.

"You said I wouldn't catch you this time," he said mildly.

She actually hadn't meant to _let_ him. This was a loss for her, and he knew it. He wasn't rubbing it in as much as giving her a second chance; escape, and stay escaped, and she would win.

"Whoever you think is going to tie me up like this," she glared. "Will be getting a swift kick between the legs. I don't kick you because I _know_ you."

His lips curled into a smirk, and he sliced a shard of apple to pop between his teeth, chewing slowly while she spun around and looked up, trying to shake loose the rope over the knot in the wide tree branch.

"I suppose this same someone who you will be kicking, my love, they will let you know beforehand that they mean to do you harm?"

She huffed, and glared over her shoulder.

"This is only eating up time we could be using for much more fun activities, I'll have you know," she drawled in her best Klaus voice. Klaus of the twenty first century, mind, not the current one (he hadn't quite mastered it, not yet. It was both pleasing and a little upsetting. Only because he was so wide eyed and innocent and lovely that he couldn't apply enough ice into his tone, not like Mikeal could.)

"I'm having fun," Elijah said, reclining against a tree.

Elena turned her eyes back to the tree, and how he'd managed to hook that up there. He must've climbed it, because it had been waiting before he'd sauntered them into the thicket, with his mouth on her neck and distracting her before he'd tied her up _again_.

She taught about teasingly insulting this kink he had, to try and control her and to see her at his mercy, but wasn't sure the joke would land on someone who thought that fellatio was an instrument.

"If you waste all the precious, private moments we have today," he teased, cutting another slice of apple free. "I will assume you don't wish to be bedded tonight."

"Elijah," she said sharply. "That's not fair."

"It's a thinly veiled threat, dearest, it's not supposed to be fair."

"You wouldn't hold out on me if I begged you," she dared him.

"Oh, but I would." He ate another apple slice, placed too carefully in his mouth.

"Liar," she mocked. "You can't help but come for me as soon as I ask you, let alone beg. You know it's your undoing. You know you can't stop yourself."

"I indulge you, Tatia, when I know your sweet words are honest and true." He licked his lips. "When you cannot stop yourself, when you need me most, you say my name as a prayer, and I am at loathe to refuse you anything when you do."

"Be very careful." She fluttered her lashes at him. "I may use that in the future."

"It would be my pleasure-"

"When I tell you you're not coming anywhere near my bed for at least a week!"

"Being near to you is every pleasure in the world," he informed her, slicing, far too calmly, into his fruit. "Even if I do not touch you or love you with my own body, I would be gladly near you. And I don’t need a bed to have my love made to you. I could just as simply put you against a tree."

She felt her hands start to get cold from lack of blood, her fingers feeling thick and clumsy, unable to close fully. She looked up and tried to slip through the rope again, tried to throw up and unlooped from the tree, but again, it didn't work.

"I'll give you a few minutes more," he said, much more cheerfully. "Then you forfeit."

"What's the point if I've no chance to win?" she muttered.

"I would never give you an impossible task," he said mildly, and crunched on another slice of apple. "I'm not completely without sympathy. You can do it, you just aren’t."

She grunted and tried to unhook the rope with a toss of her arms. Another one. Another one. It shifted, but immediately fell back into place when she came back down. She needed height. _Height_ , her mind rang, and she looked over her shoulder to see him smugly eating his apple. He must've climbed the tree to put it there, so she would also have to... climb the tree. While tied up, hovering just a little too high off the ground.

Ass.

"If I free myself here," she said. "I'm going to have my way with you."

He raised his brows.

"An interesting way to treat someone who tied you to a tree."

"You should remember what happened last time I was tied to a tree," she pursed her lips at his raunchy laughter. She'd had him then, too, rough and hard, pounding and bouncing enough to leave bruises everywhere, using the rope around her arms to pull up on a branch so she could be weightless for him.

This was different though, because this time she had lost.

"Promise," she said simply.

"I promise." He held a hand up. "Though if you cannot set yourself free, I have to insist on painting your mouth with my seed, regardless of the pout."

Elena looked down and saw the semi in his trousers, all from watching her struggle in a trap he'd put for her. It was depraved, honestly, but god it was good for her, too. She knew that the heat between her thighs was geared up, and if she squeezed right she would feel the already waiting slick. All he had to do these days was get her in a rope and _things_ started _happening_.

"Hm," she said shortly, then put her boot up on the tree and jumped, catching the rope between her numbing fingers. It didn't work - there was pain in her hands and she slipped. But the idea, that was there, and she set to climbing the trunk again.

It wasn't as graceful as she'd liked to have been in jeans and a pair of sneakers, but she made it up onto the branch, unhooked the rope, and stuck her tongue out at him.

Elijah threw the rest of his apple away, sighing.

"I suppose I must give myself over." He put away his blade, and pushed into standing. "Shall I carry you down?"

"No. You can start by undoing those laces," she said flatly, eyes flicking to his trousers.

His grin was perfectly naughty.

"As you wish," he bowed at her, and plucked the strings, unwinding them carefully, eyes on her.

With the slack in the rope now, she could easily unbind her hands and did so, rubbing the blood back into her digits. She watched him for a moment, then tossed down the rope and climbed after it, swooping down to pick it up from the fallen leaves.

It was cool, that day, but warmer than it had been in a while. The sun was unbarred by clouds and the heat of it was enough that when she reached under her dress to remove her underthings, her fingers were not freezing. She dumped them, and tilted her head.

"Lose the shirt," she demanded.

"Of course, my love." He pulled it off over his head, upsetting his mane.

"Lay down."

He did so, grinning, tucking his shirt under his head. The drawstring to his trousers was so loose that it had fallen, slightly, baring the tops of his curls to the blue sky. He looked like he was the one who had done the winning, and that's what she wanted him to think, going over to lift her dress and sit on his waist, her skirt pooling around them and trapping in heat.

"Hands," she said softly, and took them in hers, wrapping the rope around in a figure of eight knot - an old trick of his that wasn't missed, judging by the laugh that shook her seat.

She didn't use all the rope because it wasn't a real tie, just the representation of one. She pressed kisses to his bound fists and put them out over his head, sliding her hands down his forearms, and the insides of his biceps, over his pits and down his chest, to where her skirt started.

"My clever love," he cooed. "Now you have me where you want me, what shall I do?"

"Be still," she said, and licked her fingers. She reached under her skirt to rub herself.

He watched her face, the determination she let him see. His heart was beating so hard in his chest she could see it pulsing in his throat.

"Still?" he repeated.

"You pursued me, I outwitted you," she said, and with her free hand, planted it over his banging heart, digging her nails in just enough to sting. "I get to do with you as I please."

"The rules of our game," he agreed. "Then enjoy me, love."

She reached with her slick fingers and found him hardening. Not all the way, but it would do. She angled him up and sank onto him, relishing the stretch of him, exhaling a pleased breath when she was down to the hilt.

"This is how I like you," she told him quietly, giving a moment to adjust. "On your back."

"And between your legs is where I most like to be," he agreed. "So you see, this isn't at all a punishment, dearest."

"What makes you think that this is the punishment part of my winning?" She smiled, and it finally made him look at least a little concerned.

"I like you on your back, with your hands above your head, for me to ride you," she went on, purring, knowing that the slow rounding of her hips was bringing him harder and harder still. "You, hard in me, thickening every second, pressing against such pleasurable places as you have never imagined."

She started to rock, up on her knees. He was fully erect, which gave her ample room to move, and planted her glistening hand on his chest, biting her lips.

"I know what you like," she informed him, smiling softly. "I know you like me to lose control. To trust you, to have you be the one I need more desperately than anyone, to have me mad with wanting you. Because that's how you feel in wanting me. I know that you love for me to squirm. I know it drives you insane to think I don't finish with you there. When my body can't be controlled, when I writhe, when you grab me-"

She bent over him, slowing her pace to keep him slick within her while she spoke.

"I do love the way you touch me," she panted into his mouth. "The way you hold me down. Your hands are the greatest sin, only after your exquisite mouth and torturous cock. I can barely breathe, for wanting you, all the time in my mind, weaving impure thoughts into my day, even when you look at me, I _want you_ -"

"Tatia-"

"Shh!" she touched her fingers to his lips. "I'm talking."

He pressed kisses to her fingertips.

"Let me move," he said lowly. "Let me please you."

"It'd please me to let you know that you have all my trust," she whispered. "You always love me well. You always take care of me, and I adore you."

"Tatia, _please_ -"

She pressed her mouth to his, and his arms moved, coming down around her and locking her to his chest. She tried to push up but he kissed her hard, sucking on her lip. She fell into it for a second, allowing the urgency within him to subside, knowing too well that to be disallowed to touch was a cruel way to show affection.

She pulled back, and he stole a simpler kiss for her waiting mouth, lifting from the forest floor to catch her. He stole another, another, another, until she lifted her hands to his elbows and eased up.

"Hands," she said softly. "Above your head."

There were things he couldn't articulate, she knew. Words were a gift with him, and to have none, that was surprising and heart breaking. She knew what he wanted to say, though, and didn't want to have to ignore it.

Saying 'I love you' and not hearing it back, that would've been too much pain to bring to him. He didn't deserve it, so she curbed the words before they came.

"Behave, Elijah. I won the game," she murmured, and he reluctantly put them back over his head.

She sat back up, nails scratching down his chest lightly, causing goose bumps to cover his torso, and started to bounce on him more urgently. She, in summation, worked him over, having to eventually take pity on his twisting, nervous hands and put them to her clothed chest, sucking on the tip of his finger.

"A moment," he grunted out, squeezing his eyes shut. "Tatia - mercy -"

"No," she said, diving a hand underneath her skirt to rub furiously at herself.

He was close, she would've known before he asked to stop, because he was ruddy cheeked and starting to breathe long and deep, trying to stave it off. He loved to be within her. He loved to drag it out. But sometimes, to Elena, it just needed to be what it was. Quick and fast and hard. He abhorred quick; _hard_ was a word he was more familiar with. Teasing and testing among his favorites.

"You haven't-" came between his teeth, Adam’s apple bobbing. He took in a breath, steeled his resolve, and picked up his knees to dig his heels in the earth to tilt her up, off kilter, steadying her rhythm. "Don't make me beg. I want to feel you come undone around me first. We're not done yet."

"You didn't win the game," she reminded him, amused. "You play by my rules now, and I say we're done."

His hands framed her face, brushing aside her bouncing curls, still connected by slackening rope. He trailed his fingers down her throat, then to her chest, and pulled down the front of her dress to free a breast and tweak at one of her nipples with his limited reach.

She rubbed herself, using the slick to make it fast.

She had timed it perfectly, the shout from him and the sharp gasp from her. Her knees dug into his waist, doubling over, and he pumped hard and long up into her, jarring her, weak armed, to lay on his furiously breathing chest.

He pulsed and she echoed it, giving and taking at the same time. His bound hands wrapped around her shoulders, and he pressed hot kisses to her head.

She laid on him like that while his heart still pounded hard and fast under her ear, let him stroke her hair and remained tied while he remained buried in her.

"Next time," he said, nodding to himself, eyes shut against the warm sun. "I will not let you outwit me."

"You can't outwit me anymore. Today was dumb luck," she teased, and she felt him chuckle.

“The gods were on my side,” he mused.

“Were they only good for just the one win?” she said, and nibbled his collarbone, making him growl softly in his chest. He urged her face up to steal several kisses, rocking her on the deflating length of him, flinching when she sank back down to the hilt.

"Turnabout is fair play, my sweet love," he promised her, stroking her hair with his barely restrained hands. "Once I am free of these binds, Tatia, you'd best _run_."

She laughed, and it triggered the muscles he was still nursed within, making him full body flinch and utter something that might've been noises about being _rather sensitive, dearest_.

She laughed again.

* * *

The raid was a surprise. They weren't many, but they were smart. They had Rebekah and Elena by their hair, knives to their throats, already drawing blood. Everyone was dead silent while Mikeal stepped up to do the negotiating.

And then they took Henrik.

Elena wasn't sure what happened, because she'd been mid-way through a panic attack, completely trapped in the man's acidic grip. But she saw them snatch the little boy and then she _lost her temper_.

What she knew was movement.

A blur of color, a mess of sensation.

Throwing her head back to the sensation of a hot, burst grape on her skull (red). She knew searing pain on her throat (red, red) and down her clavicle (blinding white). Then she knew dropping low (navy) and ramming her shoulder into the solar plexus of the man who'd dared lay a hand on Elijah's littlest brother (cerulean). Henrik's soft hair as she cupped it (brown) and hid his eyes from the slaughter (black).

But she watched it all. Watched the clan commit murder, bloody murder. Someone's innards spilled out in ribbons, and were so hot to the icy air that they steamed as they writhed. She felt removed from herself, right up until Elijah came at her full speed.

And everything was going to be fine.

"You're bleeding," she said, reaching with her free hand for him. He dropped to his knees and skidded in the mud, splattering Henrik, who flinched against her chest.

" _You're_ bleeding," he cupped under her jaw, eyes darting around her face, then down to her throat. " _Tatia_ -"

"Henrik?" She lifted his head, gently easing him away from her chest. His face was smeared with blood, and he blinked hugely at her. "Oh, Henrik, I'm so sorry-"

"Why?" he whispered. "You saved me."

"But there's blood-" She wiped his cheek with her thumb, and when that did little more than smear it, gently dabbed his face with her sleeve. "Oh, that's - that's - I'm sorry. I didn't know I was bleeding. Come on, I'll help you get some water and we'll get it-"

"Tatia," Elijah said, desperately, and grabbed her face. " _Please_ look at me."

She did.

He had one single scratch above his brow, and although it bled a river down his cheek and dripped off his jaw, it was only a scratch. He was waiting, hands shaking, a sword forgotten in the mud behind him. There was a dead man laying not too far beyond it, staring at them.

Elena flinched, then glanced back at him, urging Henrik's head back to her chest.

"Damn the blood," she muttered, and hugged his head. "I'm glad you're safe."

Mikeal was standing behind Elijah, passively observing the scene.

He said nothing when Elena gathered his two sons to her chest and reveled in their heat and their life. She felt like a mother, with Elijah the father and Henrik the son, all the most palpable emotions she'd ever known boiling right in the center of her chest. She hadn't known she would be okay with Viking justice until they'd tried to snatch the little boy.

She watched Mikeal watch her, then turn and face Klaus, who was on one knee, Rebekah in his arms. He too, was wounded across the chest and on the bicep, much worse than Elijah, who pulled away to press a kiss against her brow.

"My brave love," he murmured into her hair. "My clever, determined, sweet love. You're insane."

"Situationally," she mused, and caught his tender kiss on her lips.

"They could've killed you," he whispered against her mouth. "What were you thinking?"

Elena could barely hear him.

Mikeal looked at her with purpose, then at Niklaus once more. His hand went to the whip he kept on his belt, already thick with old blood and trapped skin. He made the final point to look at her, then tilted his head in question.

"I was thinking I'll always," she breathed. "Always, protect you, Elijah, which means that I will always protect your family; the ones already in your heart. I'm not scared of anything as long as you're here."

Mikeal, to her surprise, gave her a slow, nasty smile, and bowed his head in acknowledgement.

* * *

Elijah was sent on patrol that would keep him away for the better part of two weeks. It was to go scare the surrounding villages and ensure that there was a message against attacks on their people. With him went Finn, Agnar and Erik, among some of the other bloodthirsty younglings.

Mikeal, Kol and Klaus, as well as a few of the other menfolk were to stay behind in a plan to lure their true enemies down into their turf. There were traps and pitfalls and all sorts of nonsense to remember when navigating their village.

But Elena would've preferred to fall into every trap, then ever see Klaus being bullwhipped again.

It was a bloody nightmare that had manifested into a gory reality. Elena had tried to avoid Niklaus - tried to keep her distance, knowing who he would become and how much pain and horror he brought into her life, and to that of her friends - but she had never, ever wished to see him broken, not even half as much as Mikeal had him.

The whole thing was a cloudy scene in her eyes, even as it happened, she couldn't remember it, her desperate brain blurring the hard red lines and strips of white bone beneath his shoulders. She grabbed Mikeal's arm before he laid down the whip for the seventh time _that she'd heard_ , and promised him he'd have what he wanted from her.

Leave Klaus alone.

I'll do it. I'll do it.

Leave him alone.

Please!

I'll do it.

You're _killing him_!

Klaus, who screamed, throat torn and back bleeding, swelling, deformed and pitiful, in a heap that could hardly describe a man on the floor of his empty hovel.

When begging didn't work, she grabbed Mikeal's arm tighter, digging in her nails and spitting insults through her teeth. To rectify this, he hit her with the handle of the whip. Something did crack in her cheekbone, and heat filled the area with an incomprehensible pain, but then he was gone, and Elena couldn't do anything - she couldn't see for tears and horror - but cradle Klaus' head on her legs, and weep painful, blistering tears over him.

* * *

Esther shed all her tears silently as she made a salve for Klaus' wounds. She kissed the top of Elena's head, and thanked her in a whisper, before kneeling down to heal him.

Elena twined their fingers, pressed her shaky, salty lips to his knuckles, squeezing her eyes shut. It hurt her already damaged face, and she whimpered, nursing Klaus' slack fingers to the unhurt cheek.

"Tatia," his torn throat tried to plead. "I don't want you to see."

She shook her head, beyond words, and kissed the base of his thumb.

Yes, she cried for him. Yes, she stayed and kept her hands wrapped around his, even when he blessedly passed out in overload of pain. Yes, she helped Esther clean up the tattered remains of his clothes, and scrub the blood out of the floor.

And then she looked the witch dead in the eye.

"Why?" she breathed. "Why do you _let this happen_?"

"When you love a man," the mother said softly. "You love all of him. Even his cruelty."

"How can you love him when he-!" her voice cracked. She wept into her hands, even as the woman held her to her breast, hugged her head to muffle her accusations. "You are supposed to _protect your son!"_

"Hush, sweet," the witch soothed, and Elena tore herself from her, her cheekbone absolutely blinding her swelling eye. "Come here. Let me heal you."

"I don't _want_ to be healed," she shot back, wiping only her good eye. "I don't want to be hurt in the first place - just because you can undo a thing, doesn't mean it hasn't happened!"

She looked at Klaus, pale, sweaty, healing rapidly from the magic but still damaged. Her heart, already broken, fractured the remaining shards. She wanted to stay with him until he woke but she trusted that Esther would be there.

And besides. She had a plan to make.


	18. Effect

Mikeal was waiting in the clearing for her, whittling something.

She approached from behind, then took a seat beside him on the log and put her hands in her lap. Eventually, she looked over at his busy hands, seeing the small block of wood turning into a vague shape.

Mikeal showed it to her when he saw she was watching, showing her the knife as it separated wood into curls and dropped to a pile on the floor.

"Where did you learn to do that?" she murmured.

"My grandfather was a master at his craft," he acknowledged. He shaved away another flake of wood and then passed her the small wooden totem while he wiped the blade down and put it in a sheath. "Hold onto it for the duration."

"Why?"

"I imagine you think I may well press my luck," he said flatly. "I imagine having something to bludgeon me with would make you feel better."

She took it.

"Return the favor, you mean," she said, the intention behind it malicious, but the delivery soft. She was scared of him. He hadn't batted an eye when he saw the damage he'd done to her face.

Tatia's parents had thought she'd been brutalized by the werewolves. It took her several long hours to convince them that she fell. Telling on Mikeal would only achieve further beating for Klaus. And Elena wasn't about that.

Nor was she about letting it slide, either.

Determination.

Anticipation.

Annihilation.

"You should know what Niklaus has done to earn you this," he said, ignoring her. "He couldn't stand against me for more than a minute in combat. He should do better. You need to tell him to do better."

"Could it have anything to do with previous injuries?" she muttered. "The ones you left on him..."

"It shouldn't matter if he is injured, or how it is done, or who it is done by," he drawled. "He will be injured in battle regardless. Learning to fight while in old pain is a good lesson to learn. Now come here."

She nearly jumped out of her seat, so unwilling was she to so much as lean into him. She clutched the block of wood in her hand, felt his fingers frame her face, and turned back to him with her eyes already shut. One, still swollen after four days of healing, twitched at the squeeze of her abused muscles.

_Best just do it_ , said Katherine's too blasé voice. _You made the deal._

The press of his mouth was not unkind or demanding. It was simple, though firm. He didn't kiss like anyone she'd ever been kissed by before; there was something knowing, lurking like fangs behind the seal of his mouth. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss for what she would describe as 'too long' - but the whole situation had gone on for too long.

"It's bitter," he said, leaning away. "When you don't kiss me back, Tatia. That's not what I want. That isn't part of the deal."

"I don't want to do any of this," she hissed, then flinched at his scowl. She felt almost on the edge of pleading for her life, though she wasn't sure why. He wasn't about _hurting_ her, not really. Her knees were shaking, and she was glad to be sitting down, because at no point was she able to stand.

"Shall I deliver the due punishment to my son, then?" he asked, tone icy.

Her lip trembled. No. Klaus could hardly move for days after the last beating, even with the magic. And Elena wouldn't - she _couldn't_ \- be responsible for the power to stand between them, and choose to turn from him now.

So she sucked up a fortifying breath, and pressed a kiss back to his mouth. Still not demanding. Still not unkind. But softer, the heat in him more lust than warmth. She kissed him until the breath wooshed out of her parted lip, and turned her face, catching a spare kiss on her unbruised cheek at his deliverance.

The block of wood was gone from her hand and he was on his feet.

"Good," he said, and brushed the top of her head with his fingers as he strode away.

And she sat there, shivering, head hung low. She didn't hear footsteps, she didn't hear the soft, sad sigh. She just felt Kol's hand, settling on her shoulder.

But she'd known he'd be watching.

"You're protecting my brother," he said faintly. "By fraternizing with my father?"

"You can't tell," she sobbed, reaching up to grab desperately at his hand. Her Plan hinged on him being on her side, and being loyal. It was a risk. But she needed to take it. "Kol, you can't tell anyone, not Elijah, not Klaus, not your mother, no one."

He squeezed her hand in return.

"You shouldn't have to meddle in my family's affairs," he said softly.

"Someone has to stop him," she pleaded, looking up at him with her swollen face aching. The taste of his father was burning on her lips. She sobbed again and it hurt her eye. "If Elijah ever knew, it'd break his heart. And if Klaus ever knew - his pride would be so, so hurt. If your mother ever knew, she'd kill me. You know she'd kill me. Please, Kol. Say you won't tell anyone."

"I won't," he settled into a crouch beside her. "Gods forgive me, no, I won't. I won't say a word."

She tried to smile at him, but that caused a pain that she didn't want to deal with. She directed her face to the ground, and hiccuped.

"Thank you." She rubbed his fingers. "Th-... That means so much to me."

"It's literally the least I can do, darling," he said, offering her a halfcocked smile. "Now. May I offer to heal you by way of magic?"

She sniffed, head still turned away from him.

"I have something else in mind," she whispered. "If-... If I can ask you for something?"

"For you, for this," he rubbed her shoulder. "I'll do it."

She couldn't open her damaged eye, but she could look at him with the other, full of hot tears.

"I want something spelled," she said, voice cracking. "To make me unfindable."

Stage 1 of The Plan, complete.

* * *

Kol was left to lie to Elijah about her damaged face, because Klaus couldn't look him in the eye, but neither could Elena.

Something about running through the trees while playing a game with the brothers who had remained. Something about tripping and falling. A stray rock jutting out of the floor.

No one really had an answer for why she couldn't look Elijah in the eye.

* * *

Elijah was breathing in deep, but kept quiet through his nose, eyes scanning every tree line, every possible nook or cranny. He wiped sweat from his brow and crouched low, putting his back to a tree to make sure she couldn't come at him from behind.

Elena observed him from her place in that same tree, amused. He'd been at it for nearly two hours. He had, at one point, looked upwards, but he hadn't seen her.

Taking mercy, she climbed down carefully, dress tied in a knot between her knees, and eased herself to the floor. She leaned around the tree, peering over it at the back of his head, and swung around to get a full body flinch from him when she tapped him on the shoulder.

"Looking for someone?"

"I've outdone myself," he said as he sat fully on the floor, wiping a hand over his mouth to try and hide his smile. "You're cleverer and cleverer every day under my instruction."

"Well if you think it has nothing to do with the student, and everything to do with the teacher," she sighed, mock dramatic. "I suppose that we'll have to move on to the next part of my annihilation themed lessons."

"The next part?" he repeated. "I wasn't aware I would be teaching a next part. You're capable and strong enough to get away, and keep away."

"Yes, but what happens after that?" she said mildly, slinging herself over his shoulder. "I'll need a weapon. You taught me to anticipate. I'm anticipating." She kissed behind his ear, urging his head back to trail a few more down his perspiring throat.

"You did win," he mused to the sky, as her hands spider crawled over his ribs to the laces on his shirt. "I suppose I'm at your mercy."

"That's what I like to hear," she said, and sucked on his ear lobe. "I'd like to learn the bow, please."

"I can teach you the bow," he agreed in a daze, as her hot mouth sucked a path past his pulse, down to the dip in his collarbone. "I can-... We can-"

Step 2 of the Plan, engaged.

* * *

The sex wasn't always just about fun, though. Wasn't always about satiating the heat between them. Wasn't about laughter, or kinks, or poor Tatia and what she'd come home to, or just existing for the pleasure that burst like fireworks every time they had hands on each other.

Elena hadn't meant for it to be about connection. But it happened, and she only realized it when she took the single step over the edge from _'playing with fire'_ to _'totally ablaze'_.

They were just behind the hut his family lived in, his trousers barely down past his ass.

He was kissing her while she pulled up the skirts, ignoring the stickiness of his hands. She turned her head to catch his mouth on her ear, spitting into the tops of her fingers, reaching lower, swiping up into herself.

Urgent, he tried to check that she was ready, but there was blood and god only knew what on him, and there was no way she was allowing those fingers anywhere near her. She grabbed his wrist, directed it up to her hair, and threaded his fingers there instead, before spitting on her hand and wrapping it around him, wetting the shaft before nursing him at her entrance.

The first punch of him inside her caused her to gasp. It wasn't what she would describe as comfortable, but she wouldn't have stopped for the world. He waited for her body to adjust, kissing her, his mouth uncoordinated and messy around hers, then she arched her hips at him and he started to rut.

Her head was tipped back, and his mouth stuck on her throat, breathing hot and heavy against her. She had claws in his back and he had one hand on her ass, keeping her leg up, the other behind her head to soften the knocking of her skull.

It was desperate. He was just back from battle - she could still smell the metallic tang of blood on his clothes, and ignored the stick of it on his hair and face and fingers. Not his. Someone else's. He was fine.

He was fine.

She whimpered his name, clutching him to her, trying to feel his heartbeat. Her leg tightened and she shifted up onto her toes to change the angle and he grunted, affirming, stepping inward and up to put himself closer to her.

He couldn't get quite the same momentum behind his thrusts, but he was buried entirely to the hilt within her, rounding his hips. Each time he topped out, he knocked into her sex, and triggered a full body flinch from the pressure inside. He kept his head down, breathing her scent deep into his lungs, and wound one arm around her waist to haul her even tighter.

He was fine.

She dragged his head up and saw unshed tears. It broke her heart.

She whispered his name, kissing his sweaty temples and prickly cheeks, his banging throat and dirty chin, all with trembling lips of her own. She pressed a kiss to his eyelids and felt each one burst with salt. She didn't know what had happened - who he had lost, who he had killed. It didn't matter. He wanted her, and he needed her, so she would be there.

A rough, gruttal noise eased out of him, and he pulsed within her, jerking only shortly, painting her insides with his seed.

Latched onto his shoulder, she let him ride through, and kept him locked to her tight. It didn't stop him softening, slipping out of her, breathing hard against her ear. She dropped her leg and fixed him back into his trousers, smoothing her skirts nonchalantly while their love dripped down the insides of her legs.

He was shaking, his eyes glassy, hands always touching her hair, framing her face, her throat, watching her while she organised them to a more presentable state.

She looked up at him from behind her lashes, wanting to ask what caused his pain, what caused his hurry, but never daring to ask for fear of scaring him away.

"How can you even let me touch you, with _these_ hands?" He raised both claws between them and then put them by his sides. "How can you even stand to let me kiss you?"

His voice was acid, boiling in rage. He hated himself. She knew it because she knew him, could read every line and curve of his face like a book.

But how could anyone hate Elijah? His noble and his kind? How could anyone hate his quiet, his baritone, his wit or charm? His polite, or the edge in his voice when he thought something was unjust?

It was such a fine line. A single step over.

Playing with fire. _Totally ablaze_.

"How can you even _be_ with me?" he demanded. "How can you even _look_ at me?"

Because I love you, she told the tears caught in the creases by his eyes.

I love _you_ , she told the corner of his frowning mouth.

I _love_ you, she told the trembling of his chin.

I _love you_ , she told his watery kiss.

"You're not so hard to look at," she promised him, stroking his tears to wet the dry flecks of blood on his temples.

* * *

The birds were singing. Esther had given them a name in her native tongue that Elena's English mouth couldn't say. But they sang so prettily, and barely covered the sound of soft footsteps behind her.

'Footsteps' was perhaps too loose a term. Weight shifting, leaf rustling, and twig snapping was what she heard. But they all bundled into footsteps.

She gave Elijah a look over her shoulder, brow arched.

"Are you trying to sneak up on me?"

"If I were sneaking," he said, face breaking into a smile. "You wouldn't have known."

Elena looked out over the water.

A year ago, she'd been certain that he wouldn't stop her from jumping into the depths. A year ago, he proved her wrong.

He stood by her side and looked out into the churning rapids, the Falls of the Mystic Falls she would one day come to know. The heat from his arm was her undoing - she turned to him and had arms wrapped around his shoulders, stealing a kiss.

He caught her waist in near desperate hands, meeting her urgency. Though he backed them away from the edge, she dug in her heels, dragging her face away once his palm slid down to her ass.

"Tatia," he said softly. His thumb stroked the ridge of her cheekbone. "What is it?"

"I-" She caught the words before she let them breathe past her lips. She was terrified. Terrified. But he was perfect. So beautiful, and none of it manufactured. He was trustworthy and handsome and kind and patient and sweeter than spun sugar. He adored her. And she was terrified. "Elijah, I-..."

"Tell me," he murmured, stepping back into her space. They stood with maybe a foot away from the edge of the emptiness that lead to a vicious spill of floodwater. He stood with her, paying the near death no mind at all, and pressed a timid kiss to her mouth.

_It's risky, it's too risky_ , her heart said, rattling a metal cup against the bars she'd put it behind. _Too risky. You have too much to lose._

_What about Jeremy?_ whispered her mother's voice.

_What about him!_ scoffed Katherine's.

_What about your friends?_ Bonnie said softly, echoed in Caroline's much weepier voice.

_What about you?_ Stefan reminded her. _You have a right to be happy, Elena._

_It's too risky!_ her heart shouted. _Don't roll the dice on this! You don't know you'll go back - you don't know that it'll work!_

"I was just thinking," she said softly, and lowered her lashes, eyes focusing on his lips. "I need - I need you to tell me... You... This is real, isn't it? This - between us."

"Of course it is." He stoked her face now with both thumbs, and steered her in to spread the warmth of his body to hers. Upon their chests and stomachs meeting, he felt her trembling. "Tatia, my sweet love. What is it? Has someone hurt you?"

Her mouth was moving but not making any words. As if in memory of his father's heavy hand, her left eye twitched. The visible bruising had gone, but the swelling and pain had not faded as quickly. She raised her fingertips to press against the phantom mark, but if she could read him - he could read her.

He darkened like a storm cloud.

"I will not," he said softly, threaded through with danger. "Let the lie between us stand. Someone laid hands on you when I left. Who."

She pressed her lips together to stop the tumble of words, and wrapped her arms under his, clutching his back, moving him closer still to her. They aligned, chest to chest, and she felt easier about what needed doing. But still terrified. Good god, she was so fucking _gone_ on him. Had she even loved Stefan? Because Stefan felt like a drop, compared to Elijah's ocean.

"I'm not hurt. I'm just scared."

"Why?" he stroked her temples, fingers drawing tingling circles on her scalp.

"I've-" she was never more grateful that he was blinded by love for her, and couldn't hear her lying heart. "Been having these dreams. Strange dreams. About-... About gods."

"Gods?" his brow creased.

"Not our gods," she went on. "Not - Thor, or Loki, or Odin - not his ravens or Slepnir or Valkyries. I've been dreaming about - Aries, a god of war."

He was confused. She didn't blame him. Their little Viking settlement wasn't exactly well versed on ancient religions from faraway places. Still, he didn't look as though he knew what she was talking about, exactly, and relief settled in her chest.

"What has the war god said to you?" he murmured, mouth in a firm line.

She drew him closer and kissed him, taking the time to alternate her gently sucking mouth against each one of his lips, until his fingers were in her hair and he cupped her head in both hands, his body heating up between her arms. She breathed in his air, lingering at the taste of his mouth, and broke the kiss to smile up at him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?" His eyes flicked between hers.

"Believing in me."

"Why wouldn't I believe in you?" He tilted his head and pressed the tiniest of kisses to the corner of her mouth, trailing his fingers down to the necklace she had tucked between her breasts. His knuckles barely brushed over it, acknowledging its existence, though not commenting. "You have no reason to lie to me. What did this war god say to you, my love?"

She wanted to cry.

"He told me I had the power to kill hundreds of people," she whispered. "That I had it in me to devastate the world. He keeps whispering to me when I sleep."

Elijah held her face, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs.

"You have that power in you," he agreed softly. "You are fire and force and strength. You are the sun. You burn bright and you scald those that look upon you too long. But like the sun, Tatia, you warm the earth. You light the days. You have the power within you, of course, to destroy entire villages so should you desire, it's true. But you are good." He kissed her head, her lashes, the tip of her nose.

"So like the sun, my love, you will burn bright," he murmured, trailing his lips to her ear. "You are already all the stars in my eyes, you may well be the sun, too."

She shut her eyes and let him soothe her. He was so good at it, damnit. So sincere. He was still peppering sweet, well-meaning kisses to her face when she sighed, and forced her eyes open, forced her hands to take his and still his pursuit.

"I need a favor," she whispered.

"Anything."

"I need you," she choked. "To go herb picking with your mother, tomorrow."

He blinked at her.

"After all the talk of running entire villages to ruin," he said politely. "You wish me to preoccupy the one woman who might put an end to such a disaster?"

"Please?" she said.

He'd never been good at saying 'no' when she begged.

And so Stage Three of The Plan was Complete.


	19. What's Lost Becomes Found

Ever since Rebekah had accused her of flirting with him, Elena had been very cool towards Klaus; she ignored him sometimes, or avoided him entirely, without being outright rude. What she couldn't ignore was Mikeal when he was stalking toward his son, a bullwhip in his hand. Before she even knew it, she was standing between them, her fury outweighing her fear, glaring up into Mikeal's face.

He growled something in their native tongue, but she couldn't understand it to take notice. She firmed her shoulders and turned, taking Klaus' arm in both her hands. He flinched when she touched his skin.

"Klaus," she said, urgent. "Niklaus. I can't lift you. Can you walk?"

"You let him go," Mikeal hissed, and gave the back of her knee a solid knock with his boot. It sent her to the ground, having to actively drop Niklaus to steer her fall from his bloodied back. "The boy needs to learn! He must learn obedience!"

"And your wife?" she shot back, rolling onto her side to glare up at him. "What might she need to learn from me, about her husband and his stray mouth?"

Mikeal's mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"I thought so," she said sharply, then rolled back onto her knees and up onto her boots. From her position in front of Klaus - cowering, hands braced against the back of a whipped scruff - she saw two blue, blue eyes peek out from between his elbows. "Niklaus, can you walk?"

Mikeal growled something in his language but made no move to stop them.

Elena put her hands under his pits, absolutely dripping in sweat, and started to lift him. He eased up onto haunches and then he stood, though his body folded like a thin reed and she kept an arm under his chest to keep him on his feet.

She narrowed her eyes at Mikeal over his son's tortured back.

"No more," she said simply, and had the ignorance to believe in herself.

* * *

She dabbed the welt raising on his shoulder and flinched as he did.

"Are you alright?" Elijah said, looking pale as he swept in. He lifted Klaus' face with his hand, saw there were remnants of tears and no real pain left on him. His eyes darted to his swelling shoulder, and his chin quivered. "What has he done to you now, brother?"

"Whip," Klaus mumbled.

"Why?"

"I disobeyed." He reached up and touched Elena's wrist, barely brushing her skin with a nervous twitch. "Tatia stayed his hand."

"Kol said he saw, but he couldn't hear," Elijah noted, swallowing. "How?"

"It doesn't matter," she supplied. The less they knew, the better. "I have something to hold over him, so I will."

"You shouldn't," came the broken whisper from her patient. "He'll be so cross with you, Tatia. You can't risk his cruelty."

"You're worth it, Klaus," she said firmly. "He won't hurt me. I have it under control. It's fine."

* * *

"You're supposed to avoid me," Elijah panted into the juncture of her thighs. "You must stop letting me apprehend you."

"Perhaps you should stop making it so fun to lose, then." She dragged him back to her with a flex of her thigh, her boot heel digging into his back. He'd missed her center on purpose, pressing kisses on the bone of her hip, eyes glittering as he looked up from behind her bunched up skirt. "Elijah, don't you _dare_ make me wait any longer."

"You say it’s fun, my sweet love," he accused, arching a brow, his chin too wet to be on such a contrite looking face. "But that sounded awfully like a complaint."

She sucked in a huge breath, tried to keep in the exhalation of air when his fingers curled up within her and started to stroke relentlessly.

Her hands, tied behind her back, grated against the rope and left hot streaks flashing up her arms. She licked her lip and looked down at him, making a soft mewling noise at the stroke of his fingers inside her walls.

“Elijah,” she gasped.

“Mm?” he hummed, and rubbed that spot inside, making her clamp her legs shut on his wrist. “Oh, my precious Tatia. Do you think that will stop me from taking what I want?”

“What do you want?” she groaned.

“I want you mad for release,” he told her honestly. “I want you mindless in exquisite pleasure. I want it to be done by my own hand. I want you to beg for me.”

“Give me your tongue and I _will_ ," she said through her teeth, head tipped back to glare at the sky. She made an attempt to try urge him closer with a trembling leg, but she was too far gone for it to have much impact.

“That isn’t how this works, I’m afraid. You're _my_ prize," he said, hand under her knee to lift it higher, open her up to the cold air and his adoring eyes. She wanted to shut her legs to him and keep it unobserved, but he darted in and pressed a sucking kiss right where she wanted it and made her whimper. "I will do with you as I please. That does not mean you may do the same."

"I won't let you catch me next time," she promised, and arched her hips at him.

"That would be the point, my love."

"Elijah," she groaned, because that's what he wanted. That's all he ever wanted. Words, when she had no words. Her desperate body was so, so ready to explode into ecstasy, but he was making her wait. A lesson. A beautiful, frustrating lesson in pleasure and evasion and annihilation of the most blissful kind.

"You _let_ me catch you, today," he murmured, shifting closer, giving her sex a thick swipe of his tongue, rough hand nailing her still against the tree while the other coaxed, brought it up, up, up within her. "Don't I _love_ that you let me."

She wished to push his head away. She wished to pull it closer. Her hands were so tightly balled up she had no hope of undoing the knots that had made her his captive. She squirmed to think of how close she’d been to winning… and how she’d thrown the game, a few strides out from having won it. Just to have him wrap her up in his arms, and to get her on the ground, hot and hungry with his illusion of control.

"Please. _Please_."

"Tell me, dearest." He sucked her sex, and she shouted out but couldn't make words. It was so close. So _close._

She shut her thigh against his slick mouth.

" _Stop_." She sucked back a breath, and his kisses slowed, patient, on her hip. His hands went to her skirts and hiked them out of his way to see her face, big fistfuls of coarse material that he kept close to her body to trap in the warmth.

"Tatia?" he murmured, looking up at her. "I've pushed you too far?"

"Don't," she gasped, and hooked her leg over his shoulder. "Stop. Come with me. Don't stop. But I need you inside, I need you - please, Elijah, _please_ , don't make me finish alone. I want you in me. I want to be full of you. I want you to be inside when I..."

He withdrew his fingers and stood, pressing a tender kiss to her mouth, framing her face with his hands.

"I don't deserve you," he said softly, pressing his mouth to her broken groan.

"You won't if you don't _hurry up_." She wrapped both legs around his hips and barely got her boot heel in his trousers to drag them low enough for him to find home.

* * *

It occurred to her, laying curved around Rebekah's back, that she had seen every person in the village, searching for the mark of Aries on their palms and skulls. Every single one.

Except the one she had replaced.

As Rebekah snored into the night, Elena found the medallion of Aries beneath the boards of Tatia's bedroom, wrapped in an old cloth. The second she touched the outside, it seared with heat, sweeping up into her palm. It was some kind of sentient – it whispered to her while she held it there, in the dark.

Rebekah snored and Elena put the medallion down.

The whispers, though nonsensical, didn’t stop.


	20. Annihilation (part 1)

Determined, she strode toward the house she'd been living in, unearthing the creakiest floorboard. Within it was a gold medallion, hastily wrapped in an old cloth. She made sure it was completely covered before she picked it up.

It was weightier than she thought it would be, and the temperature was lukewarm. She tucked it into her dress, and shut her eyes. She knew that to get where she needed to go, to do what needed doing, she would need to be strong.

But she didn't feel strong. She felt shaky and devastatingly sad.

"Tatia?" said Leda's little voice. She stood innocently in the doorway, looking in with big eyes. "Going with Elijah?"

"Just for a walk," Elena promised the girl, swooping down to press a kiss to her head. She lingered to deliver a nice long hug. "I'll be back before you miss me."

"No," she protested, and grabbed Elena's skirt. "Love you."

"I love you too," she said, and stroked the little girl's head. "Stay here."

"No," she said, wobbly, but stayed where Elena left her.

_Fortify_. She told herself firmly.

It was heavy on her heart, what she had to do. What she was leaving behind. What she was taking with her. What would have to happen in the grand scheme of things.

It ate at her soul, but she couldn't stay just because she was - so, so, gone on Elijah - all the while trying so desperately to protect his brothers. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't the way of things. Even knowing what she knew in the wrong minute of time could change her world as she knew it.

She made sure that Kol was occupied with a pretty girl, that Finn was busy with a few of his friends. Henrik was with Bekah, trying to learn how to fletch the feathers onto arrows, that Esther and Elijah had left for a stroll a mere ten minutes ago. She made sure that Agnar was off bathing, and Erik was trying his best moves on Legatha, and then she caught Mikeal's eye and ducked her head in fake shame, before turning her back to him and walking into the woods.

She walked for a long time. Right up to the Falls. Then she stopped and turned to see him following, eyes latched on her mouth as she turned to present it.

"I don't like you sneaking about," he warned her.

"I never asked you to follow me."

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You," he said quietly. "Are up to something."

"What makes you think that?" she said lightly.

"You've all but outwardly acknowledged that I have won your kisses as I please," he declared, aloof. "That I merely catch your eye and you follow me to take what I want of you."

"I have never pretended to abhor affection, Mikeal."

He wet his lips at the sound of his own name in her mouth.

"You were scared of me then," he accused, barely over the sound of rushing water. "You aren't now."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" She arched a brow. "You wanted me to be scared of you, and kiss you like I wanted you?"

"I was very firmly of the impression that you detested my every attempt," he said flatly. "That you follow with no complaint gives me reason to suspect you are identifying the many ways in which you wish to cause me bodily harm."

"So you followed me," she clarified. "Into the woods. Next to a waterfall. Thinking I meant to kill you?"

"If you tried to kill me, girl," he growled. "I would not tame my hand."

"Oh, because you're so good at it," she retorted. "I'm pretty sure you broke a bone in my face the last time you 'tamed your hand'."

"You called me," he hissed, taking long strides forward. "A slew of names designed to encounter my rage, all to spare the maggot at my feet who earned his every lash. And you pretend I struck you and enjoyed the mark it bore?"

She stared at him with no fear visible on her face. He took a step closer, quieting when he saw that she wasn't planning to flee.

"You never kissed me again, the way you kissed me when you thought I was him." His lashes fluttered as though to shield her from seeing the pools inside his mind, where _justice_ and _the means to the end_ and _loyalty_ and _desire_ all bled into the same stream.

"Does it bother you?" She tilted her head at him. "That I don't want you the way I want your son?"

"It shouldn't," he agreed.

"No," she shrugged. "It shouldn't."

“Not that it matters,” he said dangerously. “But I am only a man. You are a beautiful girl. I’m allowed a degree of wishfulness.”

“Are you?” she said simply.

She tugged the laces around her throat and let the cloak fall into a mess around her heels, and maintained staring at his face to gauge his reaction. He didn't waver in looking into her eyes as if her disrobing held no interest for him. Interesting.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Undressing." She reached up to unthread some of the laces on her dress, carefully and surely slipping loose the strings that bound her gown shut around her bust.

"I can see that," he retorted, straining for patience. "Why?"

"This is a renegotiation," she replied mildly.

"A wh-...?"

At the slow unwrapping of her tight bodice, his eyes darted to the sheer material over her breasts as it was revealed. Her nipples peaked in the cold and she knew they would. She toed off her boots and nudged them out from under her dress hem, lifting it enough that he caught a length of leg.

"You asked me once what the nature of my dalliances with Elijah were. I think you know we're being intimate every chance we have."

He flicked his eyes up from where she unlaced her outer skirt behind her back and let it pool at her feet, and continued to stare at her when she stepped out and knocked the lot of the clothes out of her way.

"He will marry you, then," he said lowly. "Elijah doesn't cavort about on a whim."

"No, he doesn't do anything lightly, that's true," she agreed. "But I could no more marry him with the deal between us continuing than I could marry you."

He frowned.

"Then we shall stop," he said, bland. "You need only tell me you will no longer continue our deal, Tatia. You stop paying my price and I will only take my rage out on Klaus. This - undressing, business, isn't necessary-"

"Again," she said. "We're renegotiating."

"I don't understand," he muttered, and she was almost floored to see a spread of heat in his high cheek bones. "What you mean."

She stared at him, stilling her fingers from unwinding the strings looped in the remaining eyes of her bodice.

"I don't want you to hurt Klaus," she said blankly. "But I won't continue paying for the privilege, not when I mean to marry Elijah and bare his children. Your grandchildren."

Mikeal flinched. 

Good. She wanted him to be uncomfortable, for uncomfortable’s sake.

"So you want to make some kind of bargain?" he said slowly. "Wherein I take no pleasure from you, or pay my rage to Klaus?"

"Now you're getting it," she said, and unwound the last of the laces. She pulled off her bodice over her head and dropped it on the pile next to her, daring to meet his eyes. "That's if you win."

"Win?" His upper lip curled. "Do spit out what you mean to have done, here. My patience is worn already thin by the weak attempt at seduction."

"You say it's a weak attempt with your mouth," she quipped, eyes going boldly to below his belt. "But other parts tell me quite a different story."

Slowly, ever so slowly, she hiked up her skirt to the very apex of her thighs, dangerously close to a part of her anatomy she'd really prefer Mikeal never saw. It had the desired affect - he stopped talking and simply watched her painstakingly untie the bands that kept her thigh high socks on. She dropped it aside and bent slow, offering him the unobstructed view of her cleavage as she wound the sock down to her ankle, before doing the same with the other.

Kol's blocking necklace, the Medallion of a war god, and her sheer shift was all she wore when she next straightened to look him in the eye.

He was pink faced, completely still, which only served to exaggerate his breathing. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, deeply, each breath drawn in to the deepest part of his lungs.

Step Four of The Plan was not a pretty step, but it was her ultimate finale. It had taken weeks for her to figure out a fitting punishment to his many crimes. It couldn't be death - for the future to happen as it happened for her, she needed to keep him alive.

But for Klaus?

And for making her betray Elijah?

Mikeal would _pay_.

"Are you suggesting," he demanded, taking a closer step. "That you and I-...?"

"What do you think?" She reached out to him and pressed her fingers to his chest. His heart was banging out of control. She tilted her head and smiled. "That's what you get, if you win."

"Win," he repeated. "What game are you intending to play, then?" He looked at her hand, resting delicately on his breastbone, and reached up, his movement slow, uncertain. His hand closed around the top of hers and he stared at it for a long moment, then flicked his eyes up to her, almost shy.

"In between our intimacies, Elijah has been teaching me," she sighed prettily, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. It didn't go unnoticed, how his lashes fluttered in reply. "How to avoid being captured. I think I've gotten rather good at it. I hear you're the best hunter this village has ever seen. If you catch me, I will continue my deal with you, and you can do what you want to me today. If I ever fell with child, well... your son doesn't spare me a day of rest. And there would be no way he'd ever consider I would stray his path."

He swallowed.

"If I don't catch you?" he said faintly.

"Then you leave Klaus," she said with a shrug. "And me, alone. Forever."

It took him half a minute to think it through, and all the time he studied her face, his hand weighing hers down over his heart.

"This feels like a trick," he accused.

"No tricks." She prettied her smile. "I can outsmart Elijah. I can outsmart you."

He narrowed his eyes.

"You think I will be baited into this nonsense?"

"I do." She lifted a brow. "Are you going to tell me you aren't interested in the winnings?" Her thumb stroked the hot plane of his chest, and his heart stuttered under her touch.

"If I won," he said slowly. "I would win you?"

"Until midnight," she clarified. "If you catch me before midnight, and bring me back here, I will let you do whatever you want."

"You..." he wet his lips. "You would... participate? I don’t like it when you struggle. I want you _willing_."

"You want me to need you, and adore you, and shake with pleasure at the thought of you." She pursed her lips and caught his eye. "I'm a woman. It's my lot in life. I can make you believe me."

He bared his teeth in a near feral growl, and tightened his hand over hers, almost strong enough to make the bones ache.

"I'll play your game," he said darkly. "And when I win, I will have you. You understand this?"

"It is my bargain," she reminded him. "Will you go through with it? Even though you know Elijah loves me, and it might break his heart?" she went on, curious for his answer.

"Yes. I will do it. And my son will never know," he said, and took a step closer. "But I want something else if I win."

She took in a breath.

"And what might that be?" She said evenly.

"I never want you to marry," he declared. "If you get married, you would never pretend you wanted me again. Swear you won't marry if I win, and I will play your little game."

She was a little surprised, truth be told, that he was so openly jealous. She didn't think he had it in him.

"Deal." She struggled to get her hand out from under his, then took a few steps back. "Use whatever means you want, Mikeal. But before the moon hits the peak of the sky, if you haven't brought me back here and done what you wished to have done, I win. You never hurt Klaus again. And you never ask me for a touch. Agreed?"

He bowed his head.

"And you will lay with me," he murmured. "Under all the stars in the night sky as witness."

"That's _if_ you win," she said, and batted her lashes, taking a few steps more. "You give me a minute's head start and we'll begin."

* * *

She spun into the air and landed hard on a bed that bounced. She yelped at the feeling of hands on her body, and kicked out with a hard foot that landed in a soft gut.

"Elena!" Bonnie's voice said.

She swam into focus. Stefan was there, hands up, doubled over, and Caroline sat by her on the bed.

"Woah, what's going on with your hair?" she said, referencing the teased mess that Rebekah had convinced her was the norm.

She looked between them, the medallion kept tight to the clothing on her breast. It worked.

It worked?

Mikeal-?

Swallowing, she sat, smiling weakly at them all.

Over a year. She'd been away from them for _over a year._

But she already missed Elijah more than any of them.

Kol's necklace on her throat burned, as though in echo of a witch that looked for her, somewhere in time. She wondered if it was still in parallel, or if time logic dictated that she was in a singular stream of time that existed only because she did within it. She wondered, if she went back, would it be to the same second that Tatia shifted into her place, and hit the water?

She'd be fine. She'd have to be.

"How long?" she gasped. "Was I gone?"

"Like, just over ten minutes?" Caroline arched a brow. "What are you wearing?"

"I need a shower," she said, and glanced at Stefan. "And some time alone, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, sure," he said. "Are you okay? You look... a little out of it, to be honest."

"Dizzy," she lied, and swallowed. "A little gross. Time magic is weird. Was Tatia here?"

"Yeah. Turns out she had Aries' medallion last. She told us that some random traveler gave it to her," Bonnie suggested. "Are you sure you're okay? I know that a full Body Switch can be a lot to deal with, but to do that and time travel..."

"Yeah, fine." Elena sat up, clutching the Medallion in a careful fist, the cloth around it feeling static and hot. “So. No medallion?”

"Not yet. It doesn’t make sense," Bonnie said slowly. "The gods always have a way of knowing who are best going to serve their domain, and Tatia was so… nice.”

"The what?" Caroline blinked.

"The domain is whatever they're the god of," Stefan said helpfully. "So Aries should have given the Medallion to Tatia because she'd be the best conduit to get it used in a war zone."

"It'd give Aries more power," Bonnie nodded slowly.

"So, the Medallion getting used to make Mikeal's ghost a real and solid thing we can kill," Caroline said. "Is that-? Is that going to piss of the god of war? Because - it's not war related."

"It shouldn't matter," Bonnie said simply. "The Grecian gods are out of vogue. They probably faded into obscurity - if there's no worship, then they cease to exist. The medallion now just serves as a powerful magical item that once belonged to a god."

"Uh huh. So now Tatia is gonna put it in a box by that boulder near the falls and we hope it's there when we next check. She was really boring," Caroline pouted, laying down on Elena's blankets. "She spoke good English, though. That was a surprise."

"Hmm." Elena nodded, slightly dazed. "Lucky for you."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Bonnie's hand reached out and rested on her shin. A surge of power jumped between them and the witch wrenched her hand away, blowing on her singed fingertips.

"Yeah I'm fine," Elena said. She nursed the medallion right up next to her belly and rolled off the bed, walking quickly in her see-through, nipply dress to her attached bathroom without acknowledging anyone else. "Let me know if you need help, don't let the door hit you on the way out!"

Their looks of concern and curiosity were lost on the slam of the door.

* * *

Elena should've hidden it better.

She had thought that Jenna wasn't interested in snooping. But apparently she was wrong. Because the medallion was out, glistening in alluring gold, and her aunt was dead, holding it in her hand, staring at nothing.

The mark of Aries was burned into the center of her forehead, the symbol of his sword shiny and wet and peeling. Grey streaks of veins spiraled out from the edges of the wound, and as Elena hit the floor on her knees in shock, she saw dark roots branch out into her aunt’s eyes, and turn them black.

Jenna gave one last breath and all traces of the affliction disappeared and left her ordinarily dead.


	21. (Present Tense)

The second Elijah's phone buzzed with her newly saved number, he had it up, pressed to his ear.

"I went to a doctor and got another scan." She sounded strong and sure. He so badly wanted to see her face. "I have to take iron pills now because I was a little anemic. Everything is fine."

"It has been," he said, softly. "Three days since I spoke to you."

"I was _busy_ ," she said testily.

"Not so much as a text?" he wondered. "No, 'hello, Elijah, I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere'?"

"I’m calling now, aren’t I?"

He didn't dignify it with an answer, and heard her shift uncomfortably in the background.

"If-..." She stopped. He could just barely make out the sound of her anxious heart. It took him a considerable amount of time to calm down the roar that wanted to leap out of his chest, which was simply grand, as it took her quite a time to find her words. "I want to see you again. I want what we had. I want to be with you, and share this pregnancy with you, and do... what we were doing. It was good. It was safe."

"I will give you anything," he promised her. "You know that. You _knew_ that when you ran."

"I had to make sure," she said sharply. "That he wasn't following me. Which brings me to my first condition: Klaus can't be involved."

"You told me you wouldn't ask me to forsake my family."

"And I won't. I could imagine literally nothing worse to ask of you. At no point will I ever tell you not to protect them or see them or love them, but you can't ask me to pretend like I'm happy about him anywhere near me. Especially while I'm _this_ pregnant."

"I would never dream of it."

"But," she went on. "You also told me that I'd get a house in my name and I could invite whoever I wanted into it. Is that still on the table?"

"I believe I was being completely transparent to tell you that I would give you anything you wanted," he said pleasantly. "It wasn't an exaggeration. Whatever you have need or want of, it's yours."

"I want you. And a house," she said mildly. "In my name. I want a car. New clothes would be great, because I've grown out of all of mine. And I never want to see Klaus again."

"All this stress," he said. "Over a man who won't hurt you or our son."

"Right," she said flatly. "If you're not going to take this seriously-"

"You'll disappear off the face of this earth," he said knowingly. "Yes, I've rather gathered you're well versed in the art of avoidance, my dearest _Elena_."

She waited a beat, suspicious. He heard it in the pause, that caution in her, the stir of long forgotten memories filling his mind. If what his brother suspected was false, why else would she pause?

"What if I promised not to hurt you, love?" Klaus said into the receiver, staring dead-eyed ahead of him, his voice soft. "What if I swore on my own life?"

"I would say do it," she retorted. "Because it's not a promise you can keep."

"Klaus would never threaten you," Elijah said mildly. "When he's still, at least, a little bit in love with you."

" _What_?" she said flatly. "Klaus was never in love with _me_ , Elijah, you must have me confused with-"

"Tatia," he agreed patiently. And the silence, he continued. "Yes. We _did_ have you confused with Tatia, didn't we? All those years ago?"

She hung up on him.

It didn't matter.

Freya nodded as the printer spat out a map, the bottom marked with exact coordinates in Louisiana. She was close enough to contact him in the event of an emergency, but far enough away that she wouldn't be running into him by luck. His clever love.

He reached out and took Freya's hand.

The program they had bought to secure her whereabouts asked if he would like to run another tracker. He absent mindedly pressed the _no_ button. Thirty thousand dollars’ worth of black market computer system bid him a good day.

"I was right," Klaus said, turning away from them all. "She-... She's the Tatia I knew best. The Tatia we loved."

Elijah straightened his tie. He had seen the flashes in her, personally, but he assumed it was the likeness to the doppelgänger that had him so confused.

The way she came for him should've been his biggest clue; Tatia, the real version, had been quiet and docile, whimpering but never calling out, and she had made love to him, yes, but sparingly, and always gentle.

Elena was demanding - writhing - all things heat and passion, a fire around his fingers, and he could barely look at her from beneath his lashes before she was jumping on his cock.

And the original Tatia had not understood, nor allowed herself, to be tied up. He had suspected her from the very same second he’d put his belt around her wrists, and seen the flash of heat in her already blazing eyes. He had put it down to wishful thinking. To being twisted with Tatia, and Katherine. But hadn’t he known that _look_? That feeling of her rocking, mindless begging, the way she said his very name?

Katherine did not _beg_.

Tatia would _not_ be tied.

So as it turned out, he’d slept with three iterations of the same woman, which made him have a particular type. And he’d made fun of Klaus’ preference for blondes for the last three hundred years.

And he was an old man, who knew many, many words. But the one that fit him best to realize his mistake was the very simple: _Whoops_.

"Elijah," Klaus said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Are we going?"

"She'll run if you don't," Freya said wisely. "If she knows now that you realize who she is – was? Who she pretended to be…? She will run again, and I’m not certain she won’t figure out how you found her this time. You should go now.”

"I know," he said softly. "I seem to be having some... difficulties. I don’t quite know what to do.”

“Get her,” Klaus said.

“It’s not that, which gives me pause,” Elijah murmured, staring at the map. She was always so clever. Tatia had been her best when they had frolicked in the woods, but she’d only been like that for… a little while. Elena? “It’s what I will do when I find her.”

“Let’s work on that in the car,” Klaus demanded.

“No,” Freya interjected. “No. You need your level head, brother. Think first.”

“What is there to think about?” Klaus threw up his hands. “We go and get her, and your son – my nephew – then we bring the both of them back here safe and sound, and make her explain herself. We’re owed at least an explanation.”

“I would ask you only to think of what she said, and of what you’ve told me of her ability to run,” Freya said wisely. “The only reason she isn’t with you, Elijah, is because of Klaus. She _wants_ you, but it’s Klaus that gives her pause. If she sees the both of you come for her, I suspect there will be a resistance.”

Klaus pursed his lips.

“I won’t confirm her fear,” he said slowly. “I shall stay. You’ll do better to get her safely back here if you go alone. To have her with child, and frightened, is not what I want.”

“No,” Elijah agreed. “I don’t want her to be frightened… of you.”

“Say you don’t want her frightened,” Freya said gently. “You’re angry. You have a right to be. She lied to you about this impossible thing, but I can’t say I blame her.”

“I want her back,” he said, in lieu of being able to promise that he wouldn’t put the fear of god into that woman. If it made her _stay put_. If it made her _explain_.

“Of course,” Freya soothed. “But be kind-“

“I have _been kind_ ,” he said through his teeth. “And she _stole my son_.”

“Elijah-“

“She _stole my son_!” he snapped. “My son! _My_ child! The only heir to my line, the only chance of ever having redeemed my misdeeds – and she _stole_ him from me! After I did nothing to deserve – I did _nothing_ to deserve this! I have only ever shown her my kindness – and she STOLE MY CHILD.”

Klaus settled a hand on his shoulder which Elijah shrugged away violently. The next hand clamped down hard, solidly resisting the shove he gave it again. Klaus gave him a shake, and then firmed his lips, unblinking to look into his brother’s eyes.

“If you do not calm yourself,” the Hybrid warned him. “You will frighten her beyond repair.”

“I _don’t care_ ,” he snarled, and got another solid shake for it. “Stop _throttling_ me-!”

“Stop being stupid!” Klaus demanded, and shook him again. “That’s _my_ job. You need to find that infamous calm, brother, and grasp it with both hands. While your son is within that woman, he needs you to keep her mild. Don’t pay the vessel any mind. Think of the Mikealson in her womb.”

The both of them were glaring at each other while Freya watched on. When Klaus made to release his shoulders, Elijah clapped both his own hands over his brother’s wrists to keep himself grounded.

“I may never forgive her,” he said darkly.

“So don’t. You won’t hear an argument from me,” Klaus advised. “But stay your rage, Elijah. Find your indifference. Give her nothing to work with and she cannot control you.”

“I doubt she wanted to control-“ started Freya.

“I will have her put in her _place_ ,” Elijah decided, chin trembling. “That she lied to me for so long, and had me think I _raped_ her–“ He inhaled sharply and felt burning tears begin to prickle in his eyes.

“You didn’t hurt her,” Klaus promised him. “You would never hurt a woman like that. Your child is pure, brother. He is no design of force, and he will be loved, and he will love you always. Breathe.”

Elijah couldn’t. His chest was tight, and every second his throat was closing. He wiped his face roughly.

“I could hardly look at her,” he admitted. He swallowed against a lump in his throat. “I’d hurt her, and I’d created my son out of an – accidental darkness –“

“You loved her,” Klaus said firmly. “Elijah, you loved that woman with every fiber in your being. You adored her, and she loved you, and that boy was conceived because of that.”

Elijah held his face, head bowed.

“I _loved_ her,” he said bitterly.

“I know,” Klaus said, squeezing his shoulders. “I know you did. We both did. She adored you. Now you need to get her, brother, and bring her home. Make it safe for the child. Stay your rage. You can spend it another day, but not today. Today you must keep your head.”

“Come with me,” Elijah said, unearthing from his hands. “I cannot.”

“You can,” Klaus retorted. “Because you must. For the boy, you must.”

“Niklaus, I don’t _want_ to,” he said desperately. “I don’t want to be kind to her. I want her to be so terrified the mere thought of her ever running from me again would keep her still. I’m so angry, brother, I don’t _want_ to be kind to her-“

“No one said be kind,” Klaus said.

“I did,” Freya supplied.

She was ignored.

“You only need to hide your rage,” Klaus amended. “Elijah, you must be approachable. If she puts up a fight – is she feels the kind of fear that she is due to feel – your son could be hurt.”

“I want her to cry,” Elijah muttered vengefully, wiping his face with the rough tips of his fingers.

“Later,” Klaus said. “Make her cry later. Today is just bringing your boy home, and getting her explanation. Yes?”

Elijah bowed his head, heavy with the weight of his repressed breathing and burning eyes. He shut his lids and felt tears burst in his lashes, scrubbing them more furiously.

“Yes?” Klaus prompted.

“Yes,” Elijah said, and continued to stand, weighed down by his little brother’s hands, holding his face. “The baby. I have to bring the baby home.”

His rage – his relief – his heart. She was his heart, for so long, and he’d thought she was only the shadow in the doppelgänger. His Tatia – Elena? – she was alive? And with his child? And she would let him think her dead, for what?

Did she not love him? Had he been misled by yet another Petrova?

“Go,” Freya urged.

Klaus took his brother by the elbow and forced a single step forward. Then another, then another, until Elijah walked of his own accord to his car, the map in hand.

* * *

Elena was already on the way to the car when she realized _he_ was already waiting, overcoat parted so that his hands were in his pockets, staring at her. She heard the front door shut behind her and dropped her keys, not meaning to gasp so loudly.

He did not look happy.

He took one step and she spun to try and get back in the house, but he was already there, waiting, so close she nearly grabbed his chest. Her center of gravity was different and she put a hand on the significant stomach between them, the other flinging out to grab the letterbox, heart banging in her throat.

"No," she said, faint.

He took a step forward and she took one back. Her heel knocked the keys on the ground with an awful scraping noise.

She wanted to run.

If fact, she might've _tried_ to run, but he was there, too, hands still in his pockets, eyebrows lifted.

" _No_ -!" She gasped for air, shaking her head at him, feeling movement in her stomach that made her wince. Eyes darting, she tried to think of something to do, something to say, that might make him walk away. Even the weapons she had within her bag were no use. Maybe the vervain would slow him down, but that was packed under like three different things.

"Get," he said quietly. "In the car."

She wanted to run. She felt her chin trembling.

"'Lijah," she said, and her voice was soft.

" _Get_ ," his volume changed, became more demanding. " _In the car_."

She gulped back a breath, and firmed her shoulders.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Home."

"Whose home?"

"Mine."

"Will Klaus be there?"

He thinned his lips.

"Get in the car, Elena."

"No."

At his menacing step forward, she took two back, heel lifted in anticipation of a third. She was so close to being within the residence, so close to achieving just a few more minutes of time to put between them, time to think of a plan.

"Elena," he warned. "A word of warning. Don't test me today."

She backed up another few steps, though he had not advanced. She wasn't ready to explain. How could she get out of this? It was the middle of the day but no one else was around. Even if they were, how could she possibly ask them to help her when Elijah could just, click his fingers and snap their necks? Smack the head off their shoulders? He was too fast to outrun, and he wouldn't take his eyes off of her.

"Elijah... I wasn't... I was going to come back, I swear. I just - needed time. I needed to think. I didn't - I wasn't s-safe..."

He breathed long and slow, trying to keep the composure she knew he was so fond of.

"That boy is growing up with his family intact. This much I promise you," he continued, narrowing his eyes fractionally. "Therefore you need to stop looking at me as though I'll pull out your throat, and _get in the car_."

She shook her head at him, and backed into the door. Her hand went to the knob, though she didn't turn it, staring at him, wide-eyed. Waiting for him to grab her, to force her into the car. She had her vervain necklace on but all he needed to do was yank it off and throw it aside, and she would be his willing slave.

“Elijah, please…” she said, throat wobbly. “I just…”

All he did was watch her, hands in his pockets, in a beautiful grey-blue suit that made the pallor of his skin look cold. The touch of red of his handkerchief in his breast pocket looked like blood, to her.

 _He was never good at saying no to you when you begged_ , Damon’s low tone vibrated into her soul. _Bat your lashes, cutie. Ask him nice._

“Please…” she breathed. “Please, just give me minute. Just a few minutes. I need – please. Just let me breathe.”

He tilted his head at her.

"We've been here before. I can be a patient man."

She knew he was. The door wasn't locked and she went inside swiftly, pressing herself against the surface and looking through the peephole to see he was already gone. His shiny black car was parked just behind hers, but he wasn't in it that she could see.

Her keys were still outside on the floor. Her stomach rolled, and she looked down, evening her breathing.

"Sorry," she whispered, an unfortunate habit that she'd developed when not everyone could hear her talking through the walls. "Momma had a bit of a fright. It's okay. We're gonna be fine."

She didn't know what to do. Sitting down seemed like a good idea, though, so she sank gratefully into one of the armchairs and pulled a pillow over to her chest to hug it. It hurt her boobs, but honestly, everything hurt her boobs so it was worth it.

Her heart rate eventually slowed, and the movement in her belly made her pace. Her back was killing her, but she was more or less used to it, holding the sore part and walking until the rolling stopped. She thought that, maybe with some time to think, she would get her thinking done and come up with some awesome plan to get herself out of the mess she was in, but as it turned out, baby brain made her dumb to any other choice that wasn’t outright running to him with open arms.

She missed him.

He hated her.

She was terrified.

Now he knew.

So many things… so many things had gone wrong. Fucking _Klaus._ Klaus had walked in and immediately known who she was.

How?

Why?

Did it matter?

She pulled the pillow up to her face and smothered a short, frustrated scream into it. Then another. And another. Until there were no screams left in her to express her rage, and only sobs came out.

She heaved for breath, reached for control, and hugged the pillow a little tighter, waiting for the answers to come to her.

* * *

It had been over an hour, and she had no other bright ideas.

She had to face him, right?

Face him, or out wait him?

She couldn’t.

She'd have to leave the rental eventually. Besides, her innocent housemate Tony was due home any second, and he didn't deserve to be included in this whole drama. She bit her lip, picked up her bag, and opened the door to step out into the brisk daylight.

Elijah was waiting, hands in his pockets, eyebrows raised.

He said nothing as she approached, but picked up her keys and gave them to her on the top of his finger, trying to shutter the heat in his stare with his eyelashes. It didn't work. Elena didn't know whether his rage was:

  1. that she had run away from him and managed to keep it up for so long,
  2. because she'd taken his chance at being a father,
  3. that she'd lied to him about the nature of her trip in time.



The impression was that it was all three.

She swallowed deep, wet her lips, and stepped around him, burning to explain. She didn't want forgiveness, she knew she'd hurt him deeply. But he was the only one - aside from maybe Klaus - who could understand _why_.

He opened her door for her and she put her bag at her feet before easing into the car. The smell of leather was sickening and the second he'd pressed the car's button to start it she was winding down the window.

He observed her do it, stick her nose out of the window, and then reversed out of the lot.


	22. Proverbial Shit, Metaphorical Fan

They arrived in silence.

Elijah hadn't spoken a word in the car and she couldn't think of where to start. He left her bag in the backseat and nodded toward the double doors, which opened to reveal Klaus.

Of course.

Elena stopped walking, hands crossing over her middle; the stomach beyond it too wide and full for only two hands to cover.

Klaus' eyes flicked to it as he registered the meaning of it, then her face. He looked stormy and on edge, but strangely subdued as though guilty. (It would never be something Elena would ever enjoy - not that she was going to mention that.) The Hybrid’s brow was low as he swung aside in the doorway and allowed her through.

Elijah made to touch her back and guide her in - she flinched from him and skipped out of reach.

Once inside the compound, she took the nearest seat to try and get some of the pressure off her lower back, holding it in hand.

"Do you want a heat pad?" said a female voice.

Hayley was still annoyingly beautiful, with her strong features and carefully crafted eyebrows. Her hair was long and dark as if to juxtapose the child's in her arms.

Elena could've guessed it was Klaus' baby girl even without the tell-tale hair. The way he took the infant in his arms and pressed a kiss to her head said everything it needed to say.

"I'm not sure," she murmured as ducked her eyes.

"Not sure about what?" Hayley prompted, fixing her hands on her hips. "Your back is hurting, right?"

Elena, feeling sheepish - though not sure why - nodded.

"So I'll get you a heat pad," she said simply. "Hungry?"

Elena shook her head, adjusted on the seat, and put her eyes down to the hard stone floor.

The baby girl was making noises, laughing as Klaus blew kisses at her while she was propped up on his chest. She grabbed his lip and then his nose, inspecting everything with curious hands.

The blue heat pad pressed into her numb hands and she shifted it to where the pain was worst in her lower back, waiting for the delicious reprieve she would get for a few minutes.

“It’ll get worse before it gets better,” was her sage advice.

”Story of my life,” Elena grumbled.

The baby changed hands again, nurses to Hayley’s chest with a degree of affection that suited her more than Elena would’ve estimated.

The baby gurgled and made a sound of distress, reaching determinedly back for her father.

”I shan’t be too long,” he cooed. “Daddy needs a chat with the human.”

”Then daddy can do bath and nap time,” Hayley told the little girl.

Kicking her chubby little legs, the impossible child once again reached for her father, eyes big and watery on his face.

”Best take her upstairs,” Klaus said softly. “It may get a little loud down here.”

Hayley cut Elena a small smile and left the open roof area with the squirmy baby tucked neatly in her grasp, watched by them all as she mounted the stairs.

Klaus took a seat to mirror his brother, eyes tracking the mother of his child until she was safely in a room with a door shut behind her.

"So," he said amiably, turning to look at her. "You were not just spelled to a fleeting moment in a faraway time?"

Elena shook her head, and kept her eyes down.

"How long were you with us?" Elijah prompted.

"Over a year," she whispered.

"From the time you - Tatia - went missing," Klaus clarified. "When we found her bloody and naked in the forest?"

"Yes," she swallowed. "That was me."

"When did you leave?" Elijah said quietly.

"The last thing of note..." Elena murmured, rubbing the small of her back. "Was Kol's 24th birthday."

"Ah," said Klaus, and sat back. "Yes. Recall, brother, merely a handful of days after, she went missing again. Mikeal dragged the entire village out to find her. He said she'd been spelled. Then we found that she'd jumped into the rapids and hit her head. There were things she couldn't remember, but her manner was more familiar."

"And she spoke the language once more," Elijah said faintly.

Elena was studiously still not looking at either of them as they pieced together how much of their lives she had known.

"But all the times we had to alter our tongue to serve our Tatia," Klaus agreed. "Was because she - you - did not know the language. Because you were a thousand years from the future, with no knowledge of it."

"Yes," she said, fairly.

Klaus hummed, tapping thoughtfully on his chair.

"You were the one who got in between father and me," he said easily. “When he beat me within an inch of my life.”

"Yes."

"You were the one he struck," Elijah said cautiously, flicking his gaze to his brother. "And gave such a black eye, I thought he'd broken the socket."

"Yes," Elena murmured.

"It was you too, who learned to use a bow. Tatia... our, Tatia, she was never too concerned with it. It must've been you, then," Klaus' voice became several degrees frostier. "Who I kissed before Kol's birthday, and who hit me in my face for the show of affection."

A beat.

"I'm not proud of that," she said.

"You bloodied my brow. I had to have it stitched," he went on. "Can't say I blame you, given the pain, fear and misery I so recently rained down upon you and yours, but at the time I distinctly remembering you telling me _I_ was not the problem - you told me I could not kiss you when you were so desperately infatuated with my brother, and would never again touch your mouth to lips that were not his."

She said nothing, though she didn't have to.

"Forgive me, I must've misread a certain situation with a certain Salvatore brother," Klaus drawled, sitting back easily in his chair. "Caroline said you two were together after your little jaunt into the distant past, though she did not confirm to what extent."

She twiddled her thumbs.

"Is there a point, Klaus? Or are you just going to upset a pregnant lady for fun?"

"Oh, upset are you?" he cooed. "A thousand years ago you continued to cradle my skull after Mikeal beat me half to death. Were you not upset then?"

"Heartbroken," she mumbled. "Actually."

Knowing they heard the truth in her heart, she couldn't bring herself to look on their faces. She had hated, _hated_ Mikeal's treatment of his children, and wouldn't stand to be accused of anything less.

"You were the one who learned to avoid capture," Elijah said, perhaps wistfully. "You, who spent all those days in the forest with me."

"Yes," she said softly, and looked up at him, tried to gauge the expression on his face.

He looked like Mikeal. She flinched and looked down again.

"How many times," Klaus drawled. "Did you lie to us?"

"I don't know."

"Think," he spat, gripping the arms of his chair to lean closer to her. "Give me your closest estimate."

"Not as much as you think," she lifted her shoulder, concentrating maybe too hard on the strip of skin around her nail beds. She started to tug it. The sharp pain was grounding.

"And what do you call making us believe that you cared for us?” Klaus said through his teeth. "If that is not a lie?”

Elena said nothing. It was both complicated and very, very simple; it had started out as survival, and preempting Tatia’s return. It wasn't supposed to go on that long. And eventually, she'd caught intense feelings for Elijah and pitied the mortal soul out of Klaus - not to mention the rest of the family.

Although she'd always hated Mikeal.

" _Why_?" Klaus shouted, making her flinch. "What cruelty did you have in mind, to make us feel as though we were loved beyond measure? To rip it out from underneath our feet? Did you want us to fall to our knees when we realized now, who you are? How we'd hurt you? Why even bother when you knew what would happen to us? When you knew what I'd become? What I'd do to you, and your family?"

"It wasn't right," she muttered. The strip of skin pulled back. A stab of pain laced down her finger, and blood swelled in the new space it revealed. "It didn't matter what you were going to do in your future, Klaus, because you'd already hurt me in my past. But that version of you wasn't the same one of now. Even now, the way Mikeal treated you - you didn't deserve it, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Not even _you_ deserve that from someone who was supposed to love you."

Silence. Dangerous, palpable silence.

She shifted in her chair and shut her eyes, a headache building on the side of her head. She blinked open at the sound of movement, seeing Klaus pacing, rubbing his face.

"You lied to me still," Elijah said. "When you sought me out this year. You told me our encounter was brief."

"Well," she drawled. "Out of a thousand years, what's a year?"

"You made me think our son was conceived in fear, and confusion," he said, voice hardening. "That I had violated you to earn him."

Elena dropped her head, putting her hand up to her eyes. The drop of blood ran down her finger.

"I know," she admitted into the darkness.

"Why?"

She shook her head. She listened to Klaus' footsteps slow and then stop. Her heart was hammering. Tears were happening. She put her hands over her face and braced for the impact.

"Because she knew what happened," Klaus said faintly. "She knew what the catalyst was... For us to turn, for the spell to have been made; she knew what had to happen, that the timeline continued as it was."

"Henrik," Elijah's breath took the soft roll of an accent that hadn't been in his throat for years.

Elena let her tears fall.

"You let my brother die," Klaus accused. "You knew I would take him to the wolves - that he would be killed - that our mother and father would force us into this -"

"It would've changed the world," Elena said sharply, lifting her head, tears unfortunately pouring from her eyes. She wiped her face on her sleeve, and glared at him. "Probably for the better, Klaus, but how was I to know? How could I possibly have guessed how big your impact was on the earth? That your mother wouldn't just find another way to turn you all for another reason?"

"That wasn't your choice to make," he said through his teeth.

"So I _didn't_ ," she shot back.

"YOU KNEW HE WOULD DIE AND YOU STILL SAID NOTHING!" came his roar. "YOU LET MY BROTHER DIE, AND YOU SAID-!"

"I TOLD YOU EVERY DAY-" she bellowed back at him, shoving off the arm of the chair to get up in one solid movement. She gave his chest a solid push. "NOT TO TEMPT FATE, YOU _STUBBORN HYBRID DICKBAG_."

Klaus took a step back like she'd shot him, blinking at her with no breath in his lungs.

She _had_ tried. She'd warned him. If he was going into the woods, not to take Henrik; take Finn. Take Kol. Take Erik, or Agnar. _Don't take Henrik_ , he's too young for the woods, and to see what wolves can do. _Don't tempt fate, Klaus_. If Henrik isn't in the woods, he can't be hurt by the wolves that live inside them."

He sat back down, ghostly white, and linked his fingers into a single fist between his knees, staring up at her.

She braced on his shoulder as hard movement happened in her stomach, and took a quick step away when Elijah materialized at her elbow to try and support her. She couldn't look at him when he was that close, not just at that second. So she pushed off of Klaus' arm and held her belly, beginning to pace.

"Sorry," she muttered. "Sorry. We don't like shouty. I know. I'm sorry."

She breathed out long and hard, and ran a hand over her face to wipe away her tears, and try and destroy the evidence by sweeping back her hair. She paced, stopping by the chair she'd been sitting on to snatch up the heat pack, daring Klaus to say something about it while she organized it into the back of her maternity jeans.

The air settled around them. Elijah was standing by his brother's chair, a hand tucked into his pocket, watching her walk around. Klaus just hunched, blinking hugely at the floor, letting everything absorb.

"I know," she told her stomach, as there was a wayward fist in her lung that pushed out an audible breath. She rubbed her belly, easing back down into the chair. "Yes, I know. Please stop harassing me. I'm getting enough of that out here from your uncle. C'mon. Give momma a break."

"Do you need anything?" Elijah said.

She considered, staring at Klaus' white knuckled hands, still linked between his open knees.

"I don't know. Probably not," she said honestly, then nastily: "I didn't eat before we left because I didn't think you'd bring me to an ambush without snacks."

"Ambush," Klaus scoffed, and sat back in his chair, sulking. "You went on the run while carrying my brother's child. I think we all know who had the real power to play with, here."

"It wasn't about power! It was _never_ about power. It was about keeping _you_ the hell out of my life!" She shot back, then rubbed her belly, the twisting inside, her face falling. "Okay, easy, we're using our quiet voices now, let's just calm down a fraction. Please don't kick me. I'm walking, I'm walking, and we're calming down."

She heaved into standing and paced, holding her lower back, face twisted into a grimace.

They said nothing, they just watched.

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness." She turned to face them, swaying side to side. "What I did... more what I didn't do... I didn't know how else to handle what was going on. I wasn't supposed to be there for that long. I was only supposed to see the sigil for Aries on someone and let Bonnie know who had it last. It was only supposed to be through Tatia's eyes. I thought - for _months_ , I thought I might be in her body. That I'd shoved her out of it, and that she was rattling around in my head somewhere. But she wasn’t walking back to the village. So where was she, if I wasn't her?"

"She came through to the future," Elijah guessed.

She nodded.

"Is that why you slept with my brother, then?" Klaus muttered. "Because you thought it was her body, and therefore technically not betraying your precious Stefan?"

"No," Elena confirmed, before it could escalate. "No. I knew it was me when we were-... together. I was on birth control."

"Your arm," Elijah realized. "The scar.”

She nodded, and rubbed her belly.

"Every day I thought, _maybe today's the day I go home_ ," she tried to explain her side, give them an idea of what had been going through her mind. "Every day, more wolf skins to sleep on, more chores to do, more lessons to learn. I thought that-... I hoped, that, if I kept up the pretense of being Tatia, that she would have something to come back to. The more I stayed, the more things changed for her, and I didn't want to destroy everything she had going in her life because of some stupid Grecian medallion."

"What did Bonnie need with it?" Klaus wondered.

"Does it matter?" Elena said with a shrug. "Tatia was the last person who had it. When she came through to the future, she got asked a ton of questions, gave up what she needed to. It took Bonnie just over twelve minutes to figure that out."

"Twelve minutes," Elijah said softly. "One minute in the now for one month of the past?"

"Time magic is weird," she shrugged. "No one even noticed I had a bunch of new scars and callouses."

"Not even Stefan?" Klaus teased darkly.

She stared at him.

"No, Klaus," she said blandly. "Not even Stefan, otherwise I would've said something like: 'Only Stefan noticed I had a bunch of new scars and callouses'."

He quirked his mouth.

"You've grown very sharp, in your year spent in our era," he pointed out. "Yet you claim that you're scared of me."

"What I'm scared of," she said, hardening her tone as both hands settled on her stomach. "Is that you'll have a bad influence on my tiny family. I'm scared you'll get some stupid _always and forever_ idea in your head and try and take it away from me. I'm scared that you'll lose your temper with your brother and suddenly have an extremely precious way to get back at him. That's not even considering your plethora of enemies, Klaus. That's not even considering the drama that's linked to this family. I'm scared of being _around_ you, not _of_ you. Don't flatter yourself."

He blurred and was in her face within the next second, but was pulled back so violently that a rush of air dragged all of her hair away from her shoulders and into her face.

One second, Klaus, the next, Elijah.

He was watching her while his brother crashed into the opposing wall, eyebrows raised as if he'd swatted a particularly annoying bug.

She tried not to shrink from him. But he was looking at her differently. He was looking at her like he'd looked at Tatia, _and_ Katherine, all at once. Like she was everything in his world that was good - and everything in the world that was vicious.

"Elijah..." she said, softening. "I-... I don't know what I can say..."

"I have questions," he said placidly. "Some urgent. Some will come later. The purpose of this conversation - the conversation you would never in a hundred years have agreed to, hence the nature of your 'ambush' - was to make the air between us all quite clear. Klaus explained that you meant a great deal to him, I explained your concerns. He has agreed - though you wouldn't know it of his behavior - but he _has_ agreed that as the parents, we will raise our child as we see fit, and if he does not fall in line with that fitness, he will be removed. He knows that the house I put in your name will always be your sanctuary, and will never step foot in it. He wants to mention how your love warmed a great deal of a very cold past, but he's also very aware of the last time he tried to impart those affections on you. A la, the punch that split his brow."

She swallowed.

"It was a reflex," she muttered. "It was dark. I thought he was Agnar."

His lips twitched into the smallest of smiles.

"Would you not have struck me, then?" Klaus wanted to know, still sitting on the floor, with powdered concrete in his hair. "Had I kissed you?"

"Not that hard," she told him shortly. "I put too many hours into trying to get rid of your blood and bruises to give you any more, thank you very much."

There was a palpable silence.

"It really _is_ you," Klaus said, bewildered.

"Did-?" she frowned. "Did you not think it was me?"

"I did," he blinked. "I know the scowl better than anyone, it seems. You only had to be in my presence for mere seconds and I knew that it was your face I recalled from my human life - but until this moment, I hadn't seen you. Her. I hadn't seen her, the woman we loved."

Elijah bowed his head, folding his hands neatly in front of his belt.

Klaus appeared to be demonstrating how an ancient hybrid completed a total reboot.

"Are we done, here?" Elijah wanted to know. "No more grievances?"

"Not from me," Klaus said, voice soft.

Elena shrugged. She hadn't had anything to say to begin with.

"Good." Elijah opened his hand to the garage, and let her walk first.


	23. Home (?)

The house was beautiful. Split level. An old facade, much like Elijah, who stood at the front door and said absolutely nothing when Elena walked in. It was clearly modernized with a spotless interior, and no furniture to speak of. It smelled of new paint and it made her sensitive nose burn.

She turned back to him, eyes only on the red tie.

"Are you going to make me regret inviting you in?" she wanted to know.

"I won't hurt you," he said, voice low.

"No, you won't hurt me physically while I carry your offspring," she corrected. "But there are other ways to make me regret you being here, aren't there?"

"Anticipating." He leaned against the frame, folding his arms over his chest. "You always were among my greatest pupils."

She flinched, and ducked her eyes to the polished floor. She held her tummy in both hands, felt wayward movement, a slow roll and shift within her. She couldn't look at him, so she walked further into the house.

"Am I going to regret you, Elijah?" she asked the echo-y halls. "Will you try and annihilate me?" 

His stare was heated against her back, and the lack of answer? Did not go unnoticed.

She wondered into the pristine kitchen, the sunken lounge. All the beautiful natural light spilling in through a floor to ceiling window, bracketed by soft sheer curtains.

There was a fireplace, a place for wood to be stacked beside it. The house wrapped around back to the foyer, where he was still waiting, still leaning against the frame. When she made no move to acknowledge him, he spoke up.

"You told me you loved me. Was it true?"

She whirled on her sneakers, raising an ear splitting squeak from the polished wood. She grabbed the banister of the stairs in one hand, her stomach in the other.

"I did  not ."

He bowed his head to her.

"Yes you did. Was it all a lie?"

"I never," she said firmly. "Because it wasn't fair. I was careful when I was trying to be like her. In case I set her up when she came back. I know I didn't say it."

"You didn't have to say it. You told me you loved me," he said again, equally as patient, her eyes trapped against his steely gaze. "When we were together, for that first time, under all the stars in the night sky. You laid out under the moon with your hair in my hands and your ear to my heart. You told me you loved me with your body, in the grip and heat of you, and the way you curled into me after. What you did verbalize was that you  wanted me. That I was a good man. Was it the truth?"

She clutched her stomach with both hands, stepping up onto the first of many stairs winding upwards. She suspected he may have guessed she was more likely to run than to stand and talk it through with him, which was precisely why she firmed her resolve and stared straight on, now on his physical level.

"You  are a good man."

"Was it the truth, that you wanted me?"

"I did."

"I want you to think," he said, voice low. "Of when you kissed my forehead while I worked. Of when you learned from my sister to sew, to patch the hole in the knee of my britches neatly. Of when you took my bloody hands and washed them clean after battle. I want you to think, Elena, of when you cried out under my mouth in the darkness, and swallowed my own cries as I fell into you."

"Don't," she warned, pointing at him. "Don't make this any harder than it already is."

"Think of how many times you came for Niklaus when he was broken and in pain," he continued without pause. "Think of how you loved Rebekah and guarded her against the menfolk, and had your body cut to save Henrik from the raiders, think of how you tolerated Kol and his wayward behavior, and showed Finn your kindness by listening to him read his tedious tomes."

"I was only there a handful of months ago," she reminded him darkly. "I know what we were. I know what I did."

"Yet you're of the impression you never told me you loved me?"

"Because I  didn't ."

"Then think of how you put your hands in mine, and said you trusted me to leave you bound in a forest you were not equipped to be in. When you were with me after a battle that tore my soul clear out of my body and wrung me dry. You refilled me with hope, made me believe I was better than my murder. You did not say the words 'I love you' then, but do you think I did not hear it?"

"That's not..." She swallowed, hands rubbing her belly. "That's..."

He tilted his head at her.

"Did you think I did not love you because I never said so?"

"You loved her," she muttered. "You loved Tatia."

"Could you blame me for the confusion, when you wore her face?" He narrowed his eyes at her, searching. "Do you blame me?"

"No," she whispered.

"Then why did you never speak the truth?" he said with heat. "I  adored you, and you  loved  me, and yet you denied us both."

She broke.

"How could I tell you who I was, and how long I’d been there? That's insane.  You're insane if you think that I wanted this - this is  insane, Elijah!" Came pouring out of her mouth as she stepped off the stair, charging at him. "I knew about Henrik. I  knew what had to happen, and I let it - I let him and Klaus go to the werewolves and I  let your heart be broken, I let him die so that Esther would make the spell so that I would have you when I came back - even when you would come to my town and ruin my life, I let it all happen, because I needed you now - how  selfish and - and wrong, and stupid, and  insane , and you think that I would just  tell you? Tell you that I let him - I  let him - I loved Henrik-!"

"I know," he said, hands bracing against the arch of the doorway "I know you did.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she said weakly. “If I could even come home safely. I never – if I had known I was pregnant, I would’ve stayed – “

“You wouldn’t have risked our child?” he confirmed.

" Children ," she blurted, and wiped her face.

His face...

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, Toby is big," she said, trembling. "Our daughter, on the other hand..."

Elijah pressed his hand over his mouth. He shut his eyes for a long moment, and when they opened again they were watery.

"I'm so angry with you," he warned her. “How dare you spring this on me when I’m so  fuming mad ?”

"Surprise?" she sniffed, and shook her head slightly at him at her own bad timing. "I - I know, I'm the worst, but - it's just - it's not just Toby, so... Acknowledge her."

"I'm too old," he murmured. "For these kinds of surprises, Elena.”

He breathed out hard, shaking his head at her.

“I know you’re angry,” she said weakly. “You… It wasn’t about you… It wasn’t about forgetting you, or lying to you, it was about Toby. It was always about our son. If you knew everything I let happen? If you remembered how much I could’ve changed when I went back? Would you use him against me? I had to think, predict what you’d say – what you’d do – what Klaus would -”

"How dare you use my own lessons against me?” he snapped. “You were taught to run from those who would  harm you, were you not?”

“How would I know if you wouldn’t hurt me?!” she shouted. “You, who slapped the head off of a vampire for a slight against loyalty-!“

“I would  never hurt you,” he said flatly. “The fact you would think that is a horrible joke.”

“No, I knew that the man I was in  love with wouldn’t ever hurt me,” she snarled. “You and he only share the same body. You’re a thousand years older than him, and a thousand years  more damaged ! You have all of his face and  none  of his heart!”

“And so you invented some story,” he seethed. “Whereby I raped you.”

“You  didn’t -!“

“Oh, but I  did with the lie you told. That's what you made me believe. And I reveled in the result.” His upper lip pulled in a sneer. “I took my greatest joy in that child – these children – my son, and my daughter. Knowing that it was not your choice, I glorified those babies within you, and served at your heels knowing that you didn’t want it, that I had done something to you that could not be undone. You’d rather I think  that , then the truth of it – that we were  making love when those babies were created?”

“I didn’t think-“ she said desperately.

“Yes, that’s abundantly clear, thank you,” he said curtly. He took in a deep breath, glaring at her. “You have wounded me immeasurably. I don’t know if this can be forgiven.”

She blinked, felt her chin dimple.

“That… I would understand if you didn’t,” she said quietly. “But can we-? Are we still parents? Are we going to raise the babies as ours?”

He watched her trembling lip and huge doe eyes, and seemed to soften incrementally. A single tear beaded and unashamedly leaked from his eye, rolling over his proud cheek and lingering on his clenched jaw. He did nothing to remedy it, but that might've been the point.

Her hand went to his face, breaking the safe barrier of her home, and stroked that crystalline drop away. He leaned into her palm and barely brushed his mouth against the inside of her wrist, eyes always on her face.

"I’m sorry," she mentioned, off-handedly.

“How can you ask me such things?” he said heatedly. “Ask me if we will raise these children as ours? Why would you ask me that?”

“If-…I wasn’t sure if you ever found out…” She left her hand on his chin as a show of good faith, hoping he wouldn’t pull her out of the house and strangle her on the porch. “If you wouldn’t – you know. I only need to give birth to them. If – if you ever found out, I didn’t know what you would want to do with me after-“

“Stop,” was his stone cold advice. “Don’t say another  fucking word , Elena, I mean it. I will lose my entire temper.”

She bit her lip.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

He exhaled.

“So you bloody well should be,” he said boldly, and then released his death grip from the panes of the door. He looked up at her with dark, dark eyes, flicking behind her head. "Do you like the house?”

“Yes,” she said promptly. “I love it. How many rooms?”

“Five,” he sniffed. “I thought one could be made a play room, and we could make the other a spare. I suppose now we need the extra space for the second child you’re carrying.”

She ducked her eyes from under his glare.

“I haven’t named her,” she admitted.

“Good.”

She heard the threat in his tone –  you got to name one, don’t presume to name the second – and was glad that she was so new to the idea of carrying twins that she hadn’t even thought about naming the little girl.

She bought her hand back into her own space, feeling small and unwanted. He had not shown her the kind of affection she had known him to be capable of, but then again she supposed that he was angry. She knew that vampire emotions were amplified, but couldn’t help but wonder what the Elijah of old would have done.

“Are they well?” he asked crisply.

“Yes.”

“Are you well?”

“Yes,” she said, and then added: “Tired. All the time. And the iron pills have helped today, but… Yes, otherwise, I’m fine.”

He considered her.

“I thought you'd like to pick the things for your own house,” he said. “You have the things you left with me upstairs in the master suite, but there’s little else.”

"Do we…?” She couldn’t look at him. “Have a bed?"

"You have a bed," he corrected. "And I have a bed."

"They're not the same bed?"

"No," he said firmly. "They are not."

Wow. Okay then. Like, she got it, but also, she had been craving him, and was privately hoping he would bend to her will and just cuddle her, for Christ sake. Fantasizing not about their sex, but their intimacy, she had spooned the literal stuffing out of at least one pillow and masturbated like twice a day since she’d been gone.

Without looking up at him again, she waddled to the stairs and took a seat, rubbing her stomach, observing how he did not ask to enter into the home. He was still patient, and still very respectful of how much was too much.

"Come in, and meet your daughter," she offered, her palm curved around her full stomach.

He immediately entered and locked the door behind him before walking straight past her to the kitchen.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he said curtly. “Seeing as  you won’t be going anywhere.”


	24. Nightmarish

Elena turned the light on, barely sitting in her bed. The noise was behind the door and she swallowed, frowning.

"Elijah?"

He opened the door, still in his suit, though the top button was undone and the tie was loose. He leaned his shoulder to the frame, tilting his head at her, a soft smile on his face.

"Elena?"

She was horny, and _she_ knew _he_ knew it, because his eyes flicked to her legs even though they were covered by blankets.

She didn't ask for what the hormones demanded. She softened.

"Can we talk?"

"Are you not sick of talking, today?"

She swallowed.

"There's more to say."

He considered this as he strolled forward taking his sweet time to inspect one of the drapes on her bed, fingering it to move the fairy lights within.

"Perhaps I'm tired of listening."

She looked at her hands in her lap. Another strip of skin had been bitten into her nail bed and she pulled it.

"You have every right," she agreed. "You don't have to come, if you don't want to, you know. I'm not gonna break if you tell me 'no', every now and then."

"I will always answer your call," he said, and took the wounded hand out of her own painful study, pressing his mouth to her freshly broken skin. He regarded her from under his lashes, eyes narrowing fractionally. "Though whether you get what you want from me, I cannot say."

"I wanted to talk," she shrugged, and took back her hand. "I wanted to fall asleep in your arms."

A beat.

"That," he said quietly. "I will say no to."

"That's alright," she told the duvet. "I understand."

"No, you don't," he said lightly, and sat by her on the bed. He waited, ever patient, for her to look up at him before he spoke, hand resting gently against her cheek. "My feelings for you are complex."

She stilled.

"Are you going to compel me to forget something?" she murmured.

"No. At least…" He stroked her hair. "Not tonight."

It didn't put her at ease.

"Why would you do that to me?"

"To make things easier." He tilted his head at her. "Have you not considered it? If I were to create a different story for us? One not so complicated by time, magic and circumstance? Imagine if, when I met you in Mystic Falls, you sweetened me, and we grew to be close there?"

"I like our story just fine," she replied, mortified.

"Hm. Well. I don't." He put his hand in his lap. "I think of it often. Taking the necklace from you and creating a love story for us to exist in. No murder, or fear between us."

"I'm not-..." she stopped. He'd never said it was _her_ fear. And she had been on the run with his children. "Elijah, I would never stop you from being a part of their lives - you know that, don't you?"

"Do I?" He raised his brows at her. "You ran away, Elena, for weeks, and I didn't so much as have an inkling of where you went and how you went there. You didn't contact me to let me know they were safe. I didn't even know there was another child until you told me, after I had pursued and captured you. Is this what it will be, Elena? Is this what our family will be? A repeat of Mikealson history, wherein I become my father?"

She started to focus on her breathing, trying to read his face, but he was giving her straight A nothingness, and it was the most scared of him she had ever been in her life. She wanted to run again, and shifted on the bed, only to have him flatten her with her hands above her head.

His tie tickled her chest, weight settled on her legs, his perfectly combed hair shifting. His dark eyes were focused, unblinking on hers.

She firmed her mouth and said nothing.

He lowered to kiss her cheek.

"If I wanted," he told her ear lobe. "I could rip that necklace from your throat. I could make you _want_ to behave. Would you like that?"

"No."

"You wouldn't? Are you certain?" he traced his nose down her throat. "I could make you _like_ it."

"I don't want it."

"You did so love to be kept bound," he drawled, nipping her throat with flat teeth. "And I did so love to have you struggle, didn't I? Couldn't take my eyes from you."

She was struggling again; her body, trained for over a year to associate Elijah and restraints with nice feelings, was flooding with heat against her will. She kicked the blankets behind his weight, and tossed her head to get away from his searing mouth.

"I could make you want it," he went on into the hollow of her throat. "I could compel you to kiss me, the way you kissed my father, couldn't I? Seeing as how you're so convinced that I must become him. Perhaps I will."

"I never," she said, breathless. "Ever, want you to become your father. I was scared. I ran. But I'm here now-"

"I could have you kept for hours on the precipice of an orgasm, much like you are now," he ripped the blankets down and put his hand with purpose between her legs, two fingers abrasive as they rubbed her underwear in neat circles right above her clit. "I could have you wait until you sat on my cock to find your peace."

"Stop it," she mumbled. "I don't like this. You're being -"

"Am I?" He sank his teeth into her throat and made her shout in pain. "But you're so close, dearest, aren't you, hm? Nice and wet for me. Always for me. I could make you sit in it, of course, but what were you saying when we were together? Weren't you saying you wanted to be _fucked_ properly?"

"Stop it," she said again, more urgently trying to struggle from his grip. "Elijah, stop it."

"Perhaps I'll just use you, then," he cooed, trailing a too slobbery tongue up to her ear. His fingers wrenched aside her underwear and dove in to the knuckle, making her suck in a hard breath and try and shut her legs against the intruding hand. "It sounds like you don't much like the idea of my pleasuring you, despite practically dripping as we speak."

"Elijah," she said through her teeth. "This isn't right, _get off of me_ -"

"I'll just use you like a toy," he purred, pumping his fingers in and out of her. "Fuck you for my own release, and mine alone, wouldn't you like that?"

"No. No. No!" She kneed him in the back and he moved a fraction, but his smile only spread on his face. "Get off of me, _get off of me_ -!"

"I'll make you like it," he drawled. "Being used. I'll make you cry, I'll make you scream, and I'll make you _beg_ for it. In fact, I want you to scream right now. Scream for me, Elena. Nice and loud, now, love."

His face was not his face. It was a morph of his serious jaw and Klaus' thick mouth, curling into a horrible dimpled smile. Then the hair changed, and the eyes swelled black and veiny and he bared feral hybrid teeth at her, dripping strings of black venom onto her chest.

But then his face was nothing like his face, or Klaus', at all; he was Mikeal, black eyed and horrifying, looming over her with purpose. She knew what he wanted, because Esther wasn't there to take off his "edge". He was there for her body, no longer just her kisses, and there were nails growing up in her body, sharp pain warning her against moving.

"Get off!" She spat through her teeth, tears bleeding into her hair. Her hands were numb. He was holding on so tightly her fingers were blackening from lack of blood flow. "Stop it!"

"You ran as though from a monster," he purred, and his eyes were black, black, black. "Perhaps I will treat you like one."

He put his teeth into her throat, and ripped it out.

Which was about when he went soaring across the room, and Elijah stood beside the bed, taking her hand to help her out of the suffocating mattress. She clutched her throat, choking, but he took her in his arms and launched them out the window to glide safety down to a brightly lit field, filled with dozens of kinds of flowers, lush grass, and a small bubbling stream.

She looked down to see she was in a soft pastel dress, her stomach flat, and hands back to a regular color. She reached down and cupped her sex - wet, yes, but not with blood. The prickly feeling of too-long nails curled up within her had subsided, but still felt real.

She flinched, and looked at Elijah.

"Are you real?"

He was in a soft leather vest, hands in tan pockets, his hair long like it had been when she'd known him, tucked neatly behind his ears. It sent such a shock of nostalgia through her, her legs started to shake, urge her to run to him.

"Your heart," he said quietly. "Was out of control. Waking you in a dark room seemed like a bad idea, considering what I walked in on."

She took in a shaky breath, and unhooked her hand from her wounded kitty, feeling a throb of longing still trapped within her.

"All the books say," she exhaled. "That there's this hormone that raises when you're pregnant, and it raises when you're stressed, and it raises at nighttime and - like - they say it's not _proven_ to be related to weird nightmares, but there's not usually one without the other."

"You said on the phone you'd been having horrible dreams."

"Yeah, well... they're not like that," she cleared her throat, still testing it, so abruptly normal after it had been ripped out. "They're not all - of you, or Klaus or Mikeal - doing things like _that._ "

"I don't believe you think I'll ever put you through what you just dreamt, nor do you believe it of my brother," he said. "And it doesn’t surprise me to be the thing that lurks behind your eyes tonight."

"You aren't," she said slowly, glancing toward where they had dropped from, but there was no house, only more lush grass and beautiful flowers. "Not usually. That was... I don't know what that was."

"I've been in dreams for a long time," he said. "They're not so complex, truly. _That_ , for example, while alarming, wasn't difficult to comprehend. I scared you today, and I forced you to face Klaus, and it's playing on your mind. My father has always been violent. I imagine that your demons took his form because he carries the blood of the children inside you."

She frowned at him, felt her flat belly, and missed its roundness.

"You didn't scare me today."

"I meant to be intimidating," he admitted softly, and pulled his hands out of his pockets to fiddle idly with the hem of his tunic shirt. "I did mean to bully you into the car. But your face-... I couldn't. Waiting seemed a better option, but it wasn't the option I picked first."

She took a seat opposite him, pulling her legs up to her chest to lean her head against her knees.

"What did you mean to start with?"

"Fear." He plucked the hem of his loose pants and sat. "I wanted you to be scared. At least a fraction as scared as I was when you left the phone on and had some kind of brawl with a vampire. Whilst you were pregnant with my only chance at being a father."

"Oh yeah," she said softly. She inspected the nearest flower to avoid having to see the devastation he was undoubtedly trying to hide; the pretty blue petals unwound and she found it was full of floating glitter. When she touched the tiny glistening stars, they followed the ebb and flow of her hand, tracing in the air swirly designs. Despite the mood, she cracked a smile. "That's a bit much."

He shrugged.

"This is what it feels like what I want the babies to have," he said mildly. "It was the first place I conjured to set you down. There are horses, if you want them, though I'm fairly certain that you were scared of them when you showed up in my time."

"They're huge," she defended, trying to hide her embarrassed smile behind her knees. "And they kick."

"They only kick when startled, and they're only startled with loud noises and sharp movements," he pointed out. "Much like our children, and you don't seem particularly frightened of them."

"That's different. I love our babies. I'd never seen a horse before I went back in time. Give me a break."

"Well if you love our babies, perhaps just this once," he murmured, and plucked a flower from the earth. It immediately bloomed anew, so he picked that one, and threaded it through the first. He continued until he'd made a circlet of bright yellow flowers, leaning over to put it on her head. "There. Now you fit the part."

"The part of?" she mused.

"My dreams," he admitted. "Though before today I'd never realized that Tatia was not Tatia. You'll have to forgive me. The only name I had for the woman of my dreams was not yours."

She shuttered her eyes from him, and felt the warm sunny glow of that day turn a shade cooler.

"Elijah..." she started, but had no idea what to say.

"It does hurt," he said quietly, still plucking more flowers from the earth. "That you couldn't have explained to me the truth. I do need time to process the change in altitude, you must understand. To me, the love of my life is new and alive after a thousand years."

"The..." she swallowed. "Love of your life?"

"Yes, that's the one. Perhaps you've heard of her. She's kind and warm, so vibrant and full of life. She's almost fearless to defend the people she loves, and she loves so many people who need her. And, of course, she's my every match in the bedroom. Or, against a tree, more likely."

She wet her lips.

Although she had been unsettled by the dark turn of her earlier dream, that hadn't meant what the creepy Elijah/Klaus/Mikeal thing said wasn't true about her wetness. She could feel a returning throb between her thighs and honestly didn't know how to ask for help. If he'd want to. If it was allowed.

"Are we..." she turned to look at the water, the soft illumination from something within it. The whole place was lit from nature, with no true sun in the sky. "Are we... going to be... okay?"

"Yes," he said simply. "We will have time to figure things out."

"Before the babies get here?"

"Hopefully." He lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

"Oh." She hugged her legs, tried not to think of the patch of hair she could see between the old folds of his vest. Although the more she stared, the more it revealed, peeling back like petals on a flower. "Oops. I didn't mean that. I'm being good, over here."

"Dreams rarely behave themselves."

"I - we've had a big day," she said, looking out into the water again, keeping him in her peripheral vision but otherwise just staring into the middle distance. "I think that we've probably had way more than enough drama. We probably just need to talk."

"Talk?" He arched a brow.

"You said you had questions," she said slowly, and tried her very best not to stare at his bare naked chest. She wanted to have it on her, hot and tangible.

"A few," he considered, and plucked another flower. "Would you truly have kept our babies away from me?"

She shut her eyes. Ah yes. She had threatened that, hadn't she?

"You would've hurt my brother," she muttered.

"That isn't an acceptable answer," he remarked. "You wanted to talk to me, Elena, and have me ask my questions. Well. That's the one I have for you. Would you have been so cruel as to keep my children away from me?"

"I don't know."

"You believed it when you said it, I heard it in your voice," he said, tone darkening. "You stayed my hand because I could hear the beat of your heart never fault when you told me you'd do it. No more lies. Admit it."

"At the time…" She held her head. "When you were in my ear telling me you were gonna torture my brother to, what was it? 'Lure me back'?"

"You're right," he drawled. "Of course. Family comes first. But how could you threaten me with our children, Elena? They grow inside you, they need you, and they will love you and trust you to tell them the truth. And yet you used them against me, and you _did_ mean to use them."

"Be _very_ careful about what you say to me about family," She reminded him sharply. "When we met, you were bent on killing Klaus. And now look at you two, thick as thieves, and you can't even blame pregnancy hormones and being terrified out of your mind. So try again."

"Terrified?" he repeated, flat. "You, terrified of me?"

" _Yes_ , of you. Of everything. Of you finding out how long I'd been there - what I knew while I was there. What I saw. What I did. What _we_ did. Even though I knew what you were going to end up doing to me in the future, I still let you - I still wanted -... I let you _in_. I let you have power over me, every time I let you tie me up." She clenched her teeth and made them relax, glaring at the water. "You were always so concerned I'd think you were sick, somehow, for liking to have control. But now we know, don't we? _I'm_ the sick one. I'd already killed you and done deals with you to kill me and yet, somehow, you and I ended up fucking with all my ability to get _away_ taken from me. And I liked it. And I pushed for more."

He started pulling out the grass at the root, keeping his hands occupied.

She said nothing for a very long time.

"When you threatened me with our babies," he told the ground quietly. "I heard Katherine in your voice."

She turned her face entirely away from him.

"Good," she muttered. "That's what I was going for."

He waited a beat.

"Tell me you won't take my children away, Elena."

She firmed her mouth and said nothing. Let him stew in fear, for a while. Let him have that dark, dark cloud rolling in. Let him second guess where the threat was, if he was going to be able to face the next on coming day. If he needed to protect himself. If he needed to be more determined than her to assure his comfort. If he needed to anticipate retribution. If he needed to destroy her.

"Elena," he said, voice low, dangerous. "Tell me you'll not run again."

She woke up instead.

He was awake in the same second, glaring at her, taking his hand from her own, back into his space. He was sitting on the bed beside her, still in his suit from the day, and he looked absolutely wrecked. There were deep bags under his red-rimmed eyes, and his hair was ruffled as though he'd been running his fingers through it.

"Tell me," he demanded.

She rolled over, gave him the coldest of shoulders.

He had her spun around and sat up so fast her world tilted into a different axis. Before it was set right, he held her biceps in both hands and stared into her soul, narrowing his dark eyes. He lowered his head like a bull and waited.

"You first," she drawled.

"I'm not under consideration now, because _I've_ never-" he said through his teeth. "Had any designs to deny you our little ones."

"That's not a no!" she snapped.

She was overwhelmed with guilt for ever having threatened him with their children, and she knew deep in her heart that ultimately, she never would've hidden them away from their father. Not forever. But at the time, they were all she had over him to protect Jeremy, and she would’ve absolutely hidden and never let herself be found.

"I," he tightened his hands on her. "Am not going to ask again."

"No, Elijah, I won't tell you what you want to hear," she retorted, almost mechanically. "Because you know what? You told me you'd never hurt me, and yet here we are, and I can't feel my fingers because you're damn near cutting off all my circulation. Maybe I _should_ leave again, save all three of us the trouble of another abusive, manipulative Mikealson."

"Stop, now," he warned, and let her arms go. "You'll say something we'll both regret."

"You _made_ me face Klaus," she spat back, scrambling to get out of the bed to tower over him. With her stomach, it was not as graceful as she had hoped. And he just sat there, with his hands on his thighs, meeting her stare but doing nothing else to challenge her. It was infuriating. "You _made_ me talk to him, and you knew I was scared - you knew it was the one thing I said I didn't want! No warning, no rhyme or reason but you thought it best for me! Once again, fragile little Elena doesn't have a choice in what happens to her and her life! And it was the one thing - the one _fucking_ thing I needed you to keep your word on!"

He stood from the bed hard enough that something in the floor splintered, and buttoned his jacket very determinedly. He did not tower over her, but he did firm his jaw, which basically amounted to the same thing.

"You aren't the woman I love after all," he told the bedroom wall above her head.

"You're such a _liar_!" She pushed him, hard, and nearly toppled herself over. He didn't budge. What a bastard. "If I'm anything, I'm the woman you helped to create! You did this to me, Elijah, you - you and your _insane family_ \- scared me into this! You - _you_ , made me like this!" Her volume hurt her throat.

He scoffed.

She saw red. She started to shove his chest. Everything was going to hell, anyway. Might as well make it a memorable trip.

"You did this!" she shoved him hard, then turned it into a fist, and pounded it against the meaty part of his chest. One hit, two hits, three hits. Her lip was trembling, so she turned her mouth into a sneer and hit him again. "You _did_ this - you made me afraid, and a fighter and - I _hate you_ -!"

He caught her swinging fists, and pulled her body up, right up against his, glaring down with his teeth clenched. She pulled on her arms, going as far as to lift her feet off the ground to try and dislodge him, but he was strong enough to hold her weight suspended, and it kinda hurt. She planted her feet and tried to yank her wrists away from him, but he merely put them in one hand and held her face with the other, eyes shuttered to protect whatever cogs and wheels were going on behind his eyes.

"Do _not_ ," he said through his teeth, voice so low she felt her lungs tremble. "Say things you don't mean."

"THEN DON'T TELL ME YOU DON'T LOVE ME!" she shrieked, and kicked him square in the shin and hurt her toes. " _Ow,_ you _fucking_ -"

"I love you," he said, voice hard. "I've loved you for a thousand years. A tantrum is not going to turn me away from you. But I don't have to stand for it, either. So you calm down, or I'm walking out."

"WALK," she shouted, and shoved him again, just to feel the way he tightened his palms around her wrists. "EITHER YOU DO OR I WILL, AND IF I DO IT, YOU'LL NEVER SEE ME AGAIN!"

"Fine." He let her go, and blurred out of the room.

She collapsed onto the bed in a fury, hot tears streaming out of her eyes without the expression to match. The nerve of him. Honestly.

* * *

It didn't even register until she stood in the shower for a solid twenty minutes that he'd finally told her that he loved her.


	25. (In)Tensions

The damage felt miles wide and irreparable.

For the entire first day in that new house (the one she owned but had no furniture for, and the one she was expected to raise two babies in,) she didn’t see top nor tail of Elijah.

She was so alone, but full of two developing people. It was the worst and best of times.

The second day she spent there, she found Elijah in the kitchen.

“You didn’t eat yesterday,” he said, clipped, hands relentlessly attacking dough. His sleeves, a soft blue, were rolled to the crease of his elbow to protect them from flour over spill. He looked at her with no discernible expression.

“Good morning to you too,” she mumbled.

“There is nothing good about this morning,” he retorted sharply. “You didn’t eat yesterday. Do I have to sit and watch you for every minute of every day to make sure you’re treating my children correctly?”

“I ate,” she replied, bewildered. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t expected him to be mad. She had. But she hadn’t expected him to attack her person through her motherhood.

“You did not eat enough,” he said flatly, and pounded his fist into the dough.

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“I don’t care,” he told her, quite frankly. “You have a perquisite of calories you need to eat for my babies to be whole and well, and you didn’t meet it.”

Elena pressed her lips together tightly, and tried to think of a way to diffuse the situation.

“I’m sorry,” she said, because she kind of was. Two pieces of buttered toast was not going to cut it for a dinner, no matter how her stomach had churned and threatened to reject it. “I did eat a really full breakfast, but I wasn't hungry at dinner.”

“That’s not good enough,” he told her, blunt. He smoothed out the dough with the heels of his hands and then looked at her, going impossibly still. One damnable eyebrow ticked up. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“It’s stocked.” He inclined his head at the fridge, then continued rolling the mess into a well beaten lump. “Get something together, and get back out of my sight.”

Elena’s heart clenched. He was absolutely furious with her, and she actually had no idea what to do with him.

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t want to look at you right now,” he told her firmly.

“Elijah-“

“I also would prefer if I didn’t have to hear another poor excuse. I understand I might not much have a choice, as you seem to be rather good at spinning them.” His teeth came together. His eyes were very, very cold, almost shark-like, when he looked at her next. “Get on with it, Elena.”

Elena didn’t want to move. She was rooted to the ground, hands twisting nervously in front of her swollen belly, no desire within her to eat anything. She swallowed a mouthful that tasted like carpet, and quietly walked back down the hall to the stairs.

He was waiting, hands covered in flour, lips upset in a frown.

“Where are you going?”

“I need my iron pills,” she said softly. “They’re in my room.”

“You can take them after you’ve eaten.”

“I don’t like taking them dry, they taste bad.” She tried to step around him, and climb the first stair; his width did not stop her, and he made no move to bar her exit, but she had the distinct impression that if she tried to walk away from him then, he would stop her.

She had never, ever been scared of him. She had never considered, past their first meet in a dilapidated house in the middle of nowhere, that he would physically hurt her. Not really. Even when he’d been her enemy, he’d been somehow the only enemy she’d wanted to have. He could be reasoned with. He wasn’t heartless.

“Is this-?” she said, throat closing on the words. She swallowed around the lump that marked her fear, and then fortified. “Are you going to be like this forever?”

“Like _wh_ at?” he demanded. “Concerned that you’ll use my babies to control me? Lie? Cheat? That you’ll run away if I turn my back on you?”

“I have never cheated on you,” she pointed out. _That you know of_.

“Neither had Katherine,” he spat. “But knowing what she was capable of, do you doubt she would?”

“What the hell,” Elena said hotly. “Does that bitch have to do with me?”

“I see her in your contrite face,” he said darkly. “I see her in the sulk you think will soften me.”

“I’m not trying to soften you,” she said, which was only a lie in the barest sense of the word. Of course, she wanted _her_ Elijah back. Of course, she wanted him soft and sweet. Even the version of him who hadn’t known their torrid history was better than this one. The one before him had at least bowed to her craving to be touched.

“Then go eat something, and make yourself scarce,” he said.

Elena wasn’t sure why she tried to hide the wobble of her lower lip, but she did. She made her breakfast without truly knowing what it was, her shoulders hiked around her ears. The weight of his glare weighed on her like a physical thing, though every time she snuck a glance at him, he was mindlessly kneading. She tried to take her breakfast to her room – he didn’t like that.

So she choked most of it down at the counter, then left, almost at a run.

She didn’t see him until night had fallen. There was a polite knock at her door, and she quickly answered it, standing still, as if she were the startled rabbit in his headlights.

“Choose what you’d like for the house and send for it,” he said, and passed her an iPad. “Everything will be delivered by tomorrow if you get it express.”

“Oh… thanks,” she said, and took the device. She looked at him, weighing what she wanted to say. She was so palpably lonely, even when he was looking at her like she was pond scum, she reveled in it. “The… The kids are kicking, if you want to feel them.”

“I’d like that,” he said, and she felt a split second of welcome relief. “But that would involve me having to touch you, and I can think of absolutely nothing worse at the given time. Choose the furniture and go to sleep.”

He turned on his heel and strode away.

“Is this really how you’re going to be?” she said after his retreating back. She flicked the iPad at the bed and swung out of her room, making to go after him at as fast a waddle as she could manage. “I don’t know what else I can say, Elijah, what else I can do – I’m sorry, and I’m not going to take the babies away from you, please _stop_ and talk to me-“

He turned abruptly, his face like a storm, and advanced back at her. Elena stopped so suddenly that her socks slid on the wooden boards, and she flung out a hand to brace herself against a wall.

“You don’t want to know what it is I want to say to you,” he seethed. He looked far too much like Mikeal, and all the hairs stood up on the back of her neck. She wanted to run. But she couldn’t make her knees move. “Don’t ask me for things I will gladly give you.”

“Talk to me,” she said, desperately. “I know you’re hurting, and I know this is hard, and I know that you hate me right now-“

He scoffed. Whatever he meant by it, she was never sure, but in those moments she understood. He didn’t hate her truly, but it was a very close approximation to it.

“Go to bed,” he demanded.

“Talk to me,” she countered, and reached out to take his arm.

He wrenched away from her, well before she’d even touched him, and bared his teeth. He stood angled to her, eyes narrowed, chest pushed out.

“You want me to speak my truth?” he asked her lowly.

“Yes,” she said, and made herself a liar.

“I adored you – you were every star in my sky. And you were taken from me,” he said thickly. “Now. I want you to imagine what I would do, if someone else had done to us what _you have done to us_.”

She sucked in a deep breath and held it. Her face was hot. Everything was hot. She shoved the sleeves of her woolly jumper up her arms and exhaled.

“You’d kill them,” she realized.

“I’d kill them,” he agreed. “I certainly wouldn’t buy them a house. I wouldn’t give them leave to furnish it. I wouldn’t allow them the dignity of their choices to dally on what to eat; nor would I allow them to be fed. I would make it slow, and I would make it painful. It would exercise every cruel bone in my body, and I would enjoy it, for making the greatest love I have ever known my greatest pain.”

Elena put a hand over her mouth. The urge to vomit threatened her guts. Was it the babies, or was it her own anxiety?

“But how can I?” he went on, cold. “How can I punish you for what you’ve done, when the very reason I hurt so deeply is because you have loved me as you have? How can I, when my precious babies are still within you? You want my truth, Elena, and my truth is: I want to see you put in your place. I want to hurt you, and I want you to cry. Now leave me be, that we can both suffer in _silence_.”

She watched him walk to the end of the hall, and disappear behind the snap of his door.

She stood there, swaying on unsteady knees and rooted feet, for maybe a few minutes more. Walking seemed impossible. She just watched his door, in case he tried to come back out of it and kill her.

She paced backward to her room and locked the door behind her. It did absolutely nothing for her peace of mind, but she knew in the otherwise deathly quiet house, he’d hear it. She turned on the shower for something to hide the sounds of horrible retching as he stomach made good on her nausea, and cried with both hands clamped over her mouth in a ball on the tiled floor.

* * *

Elena didn’t leave her room.

Elijah made sure she was eating by coming and going at regular hours, leaving full plates and a selection of different drinks on a tray by her door. Exactly one hour after he dropped them off, he would make the collection, and the cycle would begin anew. She didn’t want him to see her, and he certainly didn’t want to look at her, so inside the room she stayed.

* * *

Four days into solitude, she called her brother, desperate for another voice.

"Hey, Jer," she whispered, throat thick with disuse.

"Were you in town?" he said, devastated.

“Who told you that?”

“Stefan. And Damon said he thought he saw you. Are you okay?”

“Not really. I miss you, Jer. I really miss you. Please don’t ask me-“

"Did you come home?"

“Jer,” she said, her throat convulsing. Why didn’t words want to work, when she had everything to say to him? “I love you, you know that, right?”

“I know. I love you too. Did you come home, and not see me?”

There was no point in lying.

"Yes."

A beat.

"You weren’t ever going to see me, were you? You told me to take the money to the lake house," he accused. "And then you made sure I was staying at someone's house on purpose. You avoided me."

"Yes," she said softly.

He breathed hard through his nose, and she heard the frustration in him.

"I don't know what's going on," he said. "Stefan said you were in some kind of costume. That you didn't smell right. That you attacked him with magic. Why did you do that?"

"It wasn’t magic,” she tried weakly. “It was powdered vervain.”

“Why did you do that? Was it really you? Or was it Katherine?”

“ _I’m not Katherine_ ,” she exhaled. “Jer, there’s too many questions I can’t –“

“You need to give me something here, sis, because I have nothing to go on but a letter that doesn’t really make sense,” he said firmly. “Alaric and I are _this close_ to coming after you. You’re still in the US, and that means we can-“

“Jeremy,” she said. “If you’re going to come after me, I can’t call you anymore. And I need you. I need you so much right now, please don’t mess this up for me.”

“You were the one that ran away. Or did you?” he said. “Did Elijah Mikealson have anything to do with why you ran away?”

“He doesn’t have anything to do with me,” she said, and felt her expression crumble. She sucked back a sob. Hey, the truth hurt. “H-He- He did, and now he doesn’t. I’m on my own. Can you just tell me something good? Something about school? Something about – Bonnie, or Caroline-?”

“Where are you?” he pressed. “I’m not doing this over the phone. You’re in pain. I’m coming to get you whether you like it or not.”

“No,” she sobbed, not even bothering to try and hide it. "Jeremy. I’m okay, it’s just been a few rough days-“

“Tell me where you are.”

“I can't-“

“Has someone taken you?”

“No!”

“So tell me where you are.”

“I can’t – I won’t. I-...I'm sorry."

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" he said, voice still hard, though his rage no longer directed at her. "Has it got something to do with Elijah Mikealson? He was mad. So mad.”

“He doesn’t have anything to do with me anymore,” she promised him, her voice shaking. “He’s left me alone. Jeremy you have to stop asking questions, there are so many things I can’t say-“

“So if it isn’t Elijah, is it the Mikealsons? Caroline called Klaus,” Jeremy went on. “And even he was being weird and cagey about you. We can't help if I don't know what's going on."

It was too many questions, but all of them right. If she didn't answer, he would think that he had answers. If she hung up, the way she knew she should've, he could've guessed what was happening.

"I'm fine," she said, still actively crying. "I can't talk about it. I don't want to talk about anything."

"Then why call me?" he demanded. He sounded rough, at the end of his tether. She didn't blame him.

"To hear a friendly voice?" her voice pitched. "To catch up on what I'm missing out on? Tell me something good, please. Give me something to hold onto. How's school?"

"I dropped out," he said flatly, and broke her heart. "I couldn't keep up anymore. Wasn't interested. Alaric's teaching me how to hunt vampires."

"Jeremy," she wiped her face. "Go back to school. Finish it at least, and when you do maybe I'll come see you-"

"Maybe you'll come to the house," he said icily. "And maybe you'll drop in and out of town before any one even knows you're here. What was even the point?"

She held her head in a claw, digging her nails into her temples.

"I needed money," she said. "I sold mom's jewelry."

Out of all the things she expected him to say, _'oh, what the fuck, Elena_?' followed by the dial tone was not among her choices – but entirely reasonable, she thought. She put the phone down and hunched over herself on the bed as much as she could, both hands in claws on her skull.

What kind of mother would she be, if she couldn't even maintain a working relationship with her kid brother? What chance did the babies even have to grow into good or kind beings, if she was the worst thing to happen to them?

There was a knock on her door, and she made the crying stop out of some desperate survival need to obey the monster that stood beyond the frame.

“Sorry,” she said into her palms. “I’ll be quiet.”

“Open the door.”

“I’ll be quiet,” she promised, and held her breath.

She couldn't even think about food, and she knew that was what he was there about. It was all he ever got near her for.

She dragged a pillow over to hug it and hurt her boobs. She made a noise of discomfort, and Elijah knocked again.

“I’m sorry,” she said faintly. “I’ll be quiet.”

She laid in as much of a ball as her changed body could allow, and pulled the pillow over her head and shoved it down, making her breathing difficult on purpose. It was nice and quiet, there. Warmed by her own breath, wet by her tears. She trembled all over, her only thought on making the crying go away.

If she could make the crying go away, Elijah would go away too. Then they could suffer in _silence_ , just like he wanted.

That chance was ruined, though, because there was a weight on the bed.

“Elena,” he said, and tried to drag the pillow out from her arms.

She didn’t let him take it, and tightened her grip.

“Elena,” he said again, and pulled the pillow away from her face.

Elijah's lips were pursed and there was a tightness around his eyes, but he didn't look angry.

"We can't keep on like this. It’s not good for the babies,” he murmured.

“I’m fine,” she choked, and awkwardly got up, waddling to the other side of the room with her shoulders up. Her body was hot, too hot, and she shed the jumper, folding it with jerky hands. “I won’t call him anymore.”

“If you wouldn’t ask me to forsake my family, I won’t ask it of you,” Elijah said thoughtfully.

“Okay,” she said, and put the jumper away. She held onto the brand new vanity and pulled off one of her socks, before swapping feet and doing the same again to the other one. She kept her back to him, even though she was absolutely terrified of leaving herself so vulnerable.

“Won’t you look at me?” he murmured.

She shook her head. She wasn’t game enough to, not when she looked exactly like someone who was affection starved and bawling for like four straight days.

“Are you frightened of me?”

Her heart squeezed, and something funny happened in her belly.

“You won’t hurt me,” she told the dresser, compulsively smoothing the creases out of the folded jumper. She shut the drawer and took the socks, going to the wash basket to dump them in, followed by the long sleeved shirt she wore. Under it was a simple camisole that felt tight on her belly.

But she hadn’t wanted to ask for more clothes, so she felt the pulled seams and said nothing.

When he touched her shoulder, she flinched hard. For a second, his gentle touch came off her shoulder, but returned much more firmly, stroking the gross stands of her hair away from her throat.

“I wanted you to be frightened of me,” he admitted to the back of her head. “And now you are, and I hate myself for it.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

Goosebumps spilled from his fingertips, lighting up her spine. She cringed away from the touch that trailed to a sensitive place behind her ear, and then turned to face him.

She backed up until her shoulder bumped the wall, and waited.

“I won’t call Jeremy anymore,” she told him.

“Why?”

“Because he’s getting too close,” she said softly.

“So he should. He loves you best.” He tilted his head at her. “I think you should call him more often. I also think I should invite him to live with us.”

“No,” she said quickly, and put both hands on her stomach. Someone in there was well aware of her emotional roller coaster, and wasn’t at all happy about it, spinning and kicking. “No, no. He’s not involved. It’s fine.”

“You miss him.”

“It’s fine,” she repeated, stress changing the note of the final word. She started shaking. “Please don’t involve my brother.”

He had already been soft, but he went softer still, the lines around his mouth and eyes fading.

“I’m not going to hurt your brother to keep you.”

“It’s fine,” she insisted. “I don’t want him involved. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere unless you want to kill me when I give you the babies.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” he told her, very quietly.

He reached out like she was a startled doe, and carefully stroked the strands of hair that had stuck to her wet face, tucking them back behind her ear.

“You wanted to kill me before,” she muttered, and lifted her chin, putting distance between his touch against her cheek.

“I wanted you to think that,” he admitted. “It was a horrible lie designed to do what it did, which was to keep you frightened to keep you in line. I regret every day you’ve spent in this prison I was the warden of. I thought if I could keep you quiet and under my roof, it would abate my mood. It has not. It was a mistake. It was cruel. And I’m sorry that I did it to you.”

She shook.

“Did you tell me that you wanted to hurt me because you were scared of loving me, or losing me?”

“Both,” he said, and swallowed. “Both. And our children. I was so… scared, Elena. I’ve never felt anything like it. That you wouldn’t only take away my babies, but you would make me their most hated enemy. I will not become my father. I’d rather die.”

She reached out and clamped her hand over his shoulder, just to weigh him down. Once she felt the tightness of the muscle under her palm, something in her reminded her of the hormones that had throttled her every waking moment; and how for vampires, it was much, much worse. She batted tears out of her eyes and took a tentative step closer.

“You’ll never be Mikeal,” she said lowly.

“But you ran,” he murmured. “You ran because you were scared of me. And then I gave every reason to have your fear. And I wanted it that way.”

“You’re not your father, Elijah,” she told him.

His throat flexed around a swallow.

“Do you want me to live elsewhere?” he asked her.

"No. I just got you back,” she whispered. “I can't pretend the distance isn't killing me."

She pulled him in and he took a step as though a snake before a charmer. He didn’t blink, and he didn’t move. She waited until her breathing settled before she talked.

"I won't ever take away the babies," she promised. "Not to spite you. Not to be cruel, or to make you hate me. But if anything happens to make me think that they're threatened - by you, by Klaus, by any one - I will run, and I will annihilate anyone that gets in my way. They come first. I _need_ you, but they need me more."

He cupped the back of her head once she had nodded her consent, his fingertips carefully grazing her scalp. It must've been gross, because it hadn't been washed in over a week. She wanted to suggest he stop entirely, but didn't dare move.

"My brave love," he said softly. "I'd expect nothing less."

She stepped closer, until her firm stomach was up against his soft belly. She took his spare hand and put it on the top of her swollen midriff, feeling movement beyond the wall of her skin.

"We missed you," she confessed.

When he swept her hair aside to brush his fingers against the nape of her neck, she felt his touch trembling, and looked up.

His eyes were full of tears.

"I missed you. All of you," he replied in kind, his voice a reverent whisper, as though he spoke in a church. "I was so guilty, so confused, for so long. _Elena_. So many years, so _long_ , I thought I had lost you - I thought I'd lost _her_ \- and then you walked into my life once more, and you had my baby within you, and I'll never be less sorry for not having understood who you were, and now there are two and I so desperately needed to have you all in my arms but I was so furious if my temper had snapped I don’t know what I could’ve been capable of-"

She surged forward hugged him tight. The first spill of his tears dropping onto her back made her breath catch and shudder in her chest. She didn't think she was strong enough to hug him any tighter, but she did, because she somehow wasn't close enough.

It was in the way he cradled her that let her know the difference between the man she loved a thousand years ago and the man she had lived with in the 21st century. That man was kind, yes, and patient, and affectionate to please her, but this man? This was _her_ man. He adored her, and the every line of his body showed it. He leaned into her, complimented her, and became the shape she was.

She held his head with her fingers linked behind his skull, eyes shut, feeling the buckle in his chest as he fought to regain his famous control.

"Elijah," she said, barely spoken on a breath. "You would never hurt our children.”

“I wanted to hurt you,” he confessed.

“I wanted to hurt me too,” she said. At his broken sob, she rubbed his back in long, adoring strokes, hushing him gently. “You will never be like Mikeal. It's alright. I'm here. I love you."

His hands went wide as if to cover more space, clutching her tighter still to his chest. The belly was front on, so he was essentially shielding her entire back in his spread hands.

"I love you," she told him again, and heard the first of many sobs, heavy sighs, and attempts to swallow his mourning. "I love you. I'm here, and I love you. We love you. It’s going to be okay."

“Forgive me,” he begged.

“You’re already forgiven,” she soothed, and he wept.


	26. Oh Brother

It was by no means all fixed, but it was certainly much better.

He finally conceded to sleeping in the grand bed with her, and was the most excellent of support structures for her to try and get her rest. He stayed where she put him and rubbed her back when he was told. Without being told, however, he pressed kisses against her brow, and cheek, and mouth, as if to reassure her that he was there.

This continued, the quiet lull of their clinginess, for nearly an entire week. Six days, and they were getting ready for bed, when there was a knock at their front door. He stilled in the combing of her hair, putting an ear toward the front of the house.

"Klaus," he said faintly. "He's got news best served in person. Not of the violent or threatening variety. I'll speak to him at the door."

"Okay," she said, and took the brush from him. "What episode are we up to on Black Mirror?"

"Black Mirror gives you nightmares," he reminded her, and swept down to kiss her temple.

"Everything gives me nightmares," she muttered, and heard him zoom out of the room. She finished putting her hair in a pony - washed and treated, and shiny and full of good health - before doing as she said she would, and crawling into their bed with the remote in hand.

She flicked through different options, hand rubbing her belly, when something... happened.

In her. Something. First a clench, then a release. Maybe a cramp? But then it happened again. And it lasted, too, maybe a little too long.

"Oomph," she said, and winced. "Calm down, in there. Momma's not even - _ah_ -!"

A terrible clench again. She felt her heels dig into the bed, knees instinctively raising as though braced in stirrups. She pressed down on the bed with her hand and scooted to the edge, the remote in her white knuckled fist.

"Okay...?" she tilted her head, rubbing her belly to try and feel what was going on. Sometimes she could distinguish a head or a fist or a spine. This time, she felt their shapes, yes, but it wasn't them that was moving. It was her muscles. She contracted like a half shut pocket knife, breath punched out of her lungs.

"What is it?" Elijah said, cupping her face, lifting her eyes to his.

"It's fine," she tried to breathe through another seize of her guts. "Is Klaus okay?"

"You're not fine."

"Yeah, it's - it's nothing."

He lifted his brows.

"I remember you being a far better liar."

"That was mostly naiveté. What did Klaus say? Family drama?" She winced. "Something he could've covered by text?"

"What's happening with the babies, Elena?" he said, firming his voice.

She swallowed.

"Braxton Hicks?" she shook her head, breathed long and slow through her teeth. "Ow."

"Is it bad enough for a doctor?"

"No, no, it just started," she waved him off. "It'll pass. I'm fine. It's just - weird. Not really - painful."

"You aren't breathing properly."

"Yeah there's a fist or something in my lung," she wheezed. "Go talk to your brother, it's fine. I'll shout if it's not fake labor."

He hesitated for a minute, then bowed his head and touched her belly.

"Be good to your mother," he scolded softly, and zoomed out of the room again.

She braced hands on her knees, trying to focus on the breathing that the coach had instructed them through in the class Elijah had made them take. They'd had a lot of interesting methods and things that seemed to fit, though she had never realized, were a part of natural labor and childbirth.

She was fairly of the opinion that the kids would just happen when they were ready. Elijah, of course, was trying to be as fastidious as possible, nailing down due date stickers to every likely surface, calculating her caloric intakes, all her vitamins and iron pills.

Struggling up, she braced her aching back and started to pace the floor. It didn't really help, but it was better than spasming on the bed. She strained her ears to listen to the sound of Klaus' voice, or Elijah's replies. There was another voice, a familiar voice, but she couldn't place it.

It wasn't like she wasn't safe; she was the safest she'd been in her pregnancy. Elijah was there, and would be right at the front door, and she wanted to know who belonged to the voice she knew but couldn't place.

So she padded across the floor, slinging her robe around her body, aiming to get to the grand staircase and go down it. But Elijah met her at the landing.

"Is Klaus okay?" she said, through a particularly long squeeze, gripping the balustrade.

"He's fine. It appears that, through one reason or another, my brother Kol has been resurrected," he said mildly. "How are you?"

She blinked at him.

"Wait." She felt like she couldn't breathe, possibly for a different reason than her babies. "Kol?"

"Yes, darling?" Kol cooed, strolling into her house while Klaus hissed something at the back of his head that sounded vaguely threatening. His eyes flicked to the necklace she wore, the one he'd made a millennia ago, and then her big belly, protruding between the folds of her gown. "Oh, now that's interesting, isn't it?"

"How-...?" She felt faint. Her hand went out to grab the wall, and she swayed hard.

"Good looks and wicked charms," he cooed. "You know me better than to think I'd stay out of the game from a little stab wound. How is young Jeremy?"

The blood left her face, and she gave a hard sway.

"Stop it," Elijah demanded over his shoulder. "Get out."

"No, I quite like it here," he strolled the foyer, looking around at the new furniture in the sitting room. "It's much prettier than where I've been staying. Where was that, you ask me? Hell, I'm fairly certain."

"Kol," Klaus said, hands up on the door frame. "You swore you wouldn't intrude."

"And you believed him?" Elena said. Someone's fist stirred in her lung and she leaned on the wall, sliding down to sit. Another awful contraction made her face screw up, and she panted, gritting her teeth, both hands on her belly. "Honestly - now is not a great time."

"Ah the joys of life," he said cheerfully. "Who's the lucky gent, then?"

The tension in the room amped up to a solid ten. Elena's eyes were screwed shut in the lengthiness of the mock contraction, but she cracked open an eye to see Elijah's unreadable face. Beyond it, Klaus, standing guilty in the door frame. Kol seemed to realize that it was a sore subject, so naturally, he plucked the thread to unravel it.

"Ooh, juicy. I do love a good bit of idle gossip," he said, strolling around to the foot of the stairs. "You know, in this witch body, I have the means to simply wave my hands and discover the father's name, hm? It's not exactly pleasant for you, or the baby, as it happens."

Elijah turned to face him fully, hands on his jacket.

"Brother, you've been alive but a handful of hours," he said lowly. "Do not force my hand to make it your last few hours."

"But dear brother," he cooed, putting one foot on the stairs. He took one, then another, his cheeky smile blooming into a bloodthirsty grin. "I merely have to wave my hands and-" he waved his hand and Elijah went flying off the staircase, as if yanked by the tie. He landed so solidly against the wall it splintered around him.

Elena took off her slipper and threw it at his head. It sailed wide, but got his attention.

" _Hey,_ " she snapped. "Don't wreck my new house, and quit fucking with my man."

"Your man!" he chortled. "I suppose he must've lost his mind on you after all. I heard rumor in the great beyond that he was courting you, the way he courted his first, dearest love, Tatia. Did you ever-....?" His eyes went to her necklace again. Something slotted into place, and he stopped climbing the stairs, blinking at it.

Elena lifted her hand to halt Elijah, who was getting up in the dust of plaster and chunks of brick. He scowled, but did as he was told, flicking his fingers over the worst of the mess while he narrowed his eyes at his younger brother.

She breathed through another tightening in her belly and bowed into it, grunting.

"You..." Kol said, slow. "She... But how...?"

"Listen," she said, breathless. "My womb is actively revolting against me, here. I have no lung capacity and someone's just decided to use my bladder as a pillow. Can we rain check the part where you realize I was Tatia? I need to pee. And get my breath back. Without stress. Yes?"

Kol blinked.

"You were her," he said slowly. "I can see it in your eyes."

Elena got to her feet, using the wall.

"You know," she puffed. "I really thought it was Elijah I was going to have to fool."

"You've always looked at Elijah like he hung the moon, love," Klaus said, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "It's us that have had the pleasure of your rage and vague annoyance. The Elena we knew in Mystic Falls was only ever some version of scared or determined."

"She has never lacked determination," Elijah said faintly, smiling a private smile up at her.

"That's one of those secret-kinky-tryst-in-the-woods jokes, wasn't it?" Kol wagged his finger at her. "You knew I was a watcher, and yet you fraternized amongst the foliage regardless."

"You never watched us. Don't be weird. And don't set my house on fire while I go be a severely pregnant lady, for a minute. Kettle?" she winced, held her belly, eyes going to Elijah. "We can sit out on the deck?"

He bowed his head.

"You're grossly domestic," Kol drawled, and flounced back down the stairs.

Elena didn't care. Kol had loved Tatia in his own way, and she didn't feel threatened by him, knowing that he recognized who she was. By the time she got up and did her business, the squeezing of her stomach was easing, but not completely gone. They were coming in shorter bursts, at least. And hey! This time she hadn't been forced to pee herself from the random shove in the bladder, so that was a plus.

"...After she went missing, right up until your 24th," Klaus was saying darkly.

The front door had been left open, and she screwed her robe shut, looking around for the slipper she'd thrown at Kol's head. Where was it? Feeling lopsided, she peered out to where the brothers sat around the new outdoor lounge, tea pot and four cups filled with something fragrant and steaming.

Klaus eyed her, and said nothing. She decided it was best to pretend that he wasn't very very bitter about not being allowed in the house, and turned her eyes to Kol, who was the culprit of her missing slipper.

She sighed, and stepped past the threshold, passing the open seat to sit directly on Elijah's lap, tucking into his side with arms around his shoulders. His hand braced her lower back, the warmth in it her imminent relief.

"It's cold," she said in her own pre-defense, scowling playfully at Kol.

"You used to be better accustomed to the cold," he teased. "So try to pull the other one, darling, because it won't work on me."

"That cold wasn't like the one in this age," she retorted. "And I'm pregnant."

"Shouldn't you be sweltering? Don't pregnant ladies over heat?"

"The heat comes and goes. It makes the cool air freezing," she explained. "Not common, but not unusual, according to Google. So. Why are you alive?"

"Didn't you miss me?" he cooed, leaning forward to pick up his tea. He sat back with a shrug. "I missed you."

"As the only version of someone who tolerated you as a human, yes, I imagine you would've," she drawled, best Klaus voice making Elijah press a kiss into her shoulder to hide a laugh that shook his chest.

"Dear Elena," Kol said, and sipped his tea. "Does it matter that I'm alive, when you clearly have a much more interesting story to tell? Pregnant and newly returned from a distant past? Do tell me how it happened. And spare no detail. That's quite a magic, and you know I do so love my magic."

"Well," she said sweetly. She sharpened her smile, stroking the hair at the nape of Elijah's neck. "It was just one of those things, you know. Accidental, yes, powerful, maybe. Not nearly as powerful as resurrecting a body that was undead for a thousand years and making it a witch again. Care to share?"

"Oh ho, you have been studying your witchcraft."

"I dabble," she said simply. "I find it best to have a working understanding of things that could potentially hurt me."

"Like my brother would allow any harm to come to you, when he's been besotted for a thousand years," he scoffed. "Again, you cannot fool me. You've looked up a thing or two in a book to know the way of things. So tell me, darling; what was it you wanted to know? I've a long, varied history in the dealing of magic."

Slowly, with purpose, she reached forward and took their saucers, handing Elijah one while she adjusted and sipped daintily from her own.

The entire time, Kol stared at her over his mug, eyes creasing in a wide smile.

"What makes you think I didn't find what I was looking for?" she said politely.

Kol's cup rattled with his laugh. He kicked one leg up over the other and shook his head at her, amused.

"Because you wouldn't have deflected the nature of my game without having something to bargain."

"Bargaining," Klaus muttered sourly. "Is all she's good for, after all."

Kol's nose scrunched. Despite the levity between them currently, and Kol's earlier intimidation of her person, he visibly bristled at Klaus' blasé attitude.

"Mind yourself, brother," he said, voice darkening. "I'd think you'd have a little more respect."

"Kol," she whispered, staring at the table. Her cup went in the saucer, and she set it down. "It doesn't matter. He's being his usual sour self."

"He can't speak to you like that," he retorted, frowning at her.

"He can," Klaus hissed through his teeth. "And he most certainly bloody will."

"Leave it," Elena said, gripping Elijah's hand on her back.

"You don't deserve such treatment," he went on. "Especially from him, of all people!"

" _Hey_ ," she said, and stuck her bare foot out at him. "Foot's cold, and pregnant lady demands silence and a slipper. I'll tell you what happened with the magic that sent me back. You know no one's ever done it for so long before, and come back." She wiggled her toes at him.

Kol hesitated, clearly still cross with his brother, but put the slipper on her foot and swallowed the rest of his tea.

Elijah rubbed her back, thumb digging into the knots that liked to firm up over the course of the day. They should've been in bed, already. They should've been through the first episode of Nailed It! because Elijah was right; Black Mirror was great, but heavy, and it always gave her nightmares.

"You never told him," Kol accused quietly, recalling the interlude between her and Mikeal. "Either of them, I'm guessing."

She burned, sinking in her seat on Elijah's thighs.

"Oh, wonderful," Klaus drawled. "More lies. She's good at those. Well go on, then. Spill. What news do you have for us, brother?"

"Kol, you promised," she reminded him.

"I made that promise before I was even turned to a vampire. Does it still count?"

"Yes," she stressed. "Yes it does."

He didn't look happy.

"Tell me how you managed the time travel," he said, and crossed his arms. "I'm curious."

"Bonnie cast a Mind Switch," she replied quickly, trying to desperately steer the conversation into safer territory. "She knew that it was risky. That doppelgänger magic is in a league of its own. I ended up full-body switching."

"What was the marker?" he said, unphased, as if he already knew what spell had gone wrong.

"There was supposed to be one in the Falls somewhere," she said, shrugging. "I only ever got close enough to check a handful of times. When I finally got some time to myself, there was nothing on the outskirts. Nothing physical, anyway."

"Do you know why?"

"I have a theory," she said, and shifted, linking her fingers with Elijah's on her hip. "It's the same reason that your mother couldn't find any memories in my head. They didn't exist yet. Chronologically. None of it had happened, so it wasn't there."

Kol smirked.

"Beautifully deduced, darling."

"I read into Mind Switches," she said evenly. "Which lead to Body Switches. But I had a feeling the marker wasn't near the Falls, but it _was_ the Falls."

"Well," he said mildly. "You were close enough. The Marker couldn't have been real because you were right; unless sweet Bonnie knew she was casting a physical switch and used an item that was a thousand years old, it wouldn't have existed. But with Body Switch magic to return as your own self, you're either summoned, or you die."

Elena swallowed hard.

"You _wh_ at?" Elijah said politely, hands going hard on her.

"Uhm," she turned to face him, biting her lip. "I might've jumped. Into the Falls."

He blinked at her.

"You..." he said slowly. "'Had a feeling it' would work?"

"Yeah," she swallowed, flicked her eyes at Kol. "I took backup in case it went wayward."

"Mikeal was a strong swimmer," Kol agreed frostily. Seemingly on the wagon of not outing her as having kissed him on multiple occasions, he shrugged. "It worked. Best not dwell on it. For what purpose did young Bonnie lass send you back, then?"

"Oh, I don't know," she shrugged dismissively. "Some witch thing."

"The medallion of Aries," Klaus said, mouth twisting as she shot him a glare. "Yes, you told us, remember?"

Kol frowned at her.

"We never had the medallion of Aries," he protested. "Mother would've known, surely. I would've sensed it. Finn would've recognized the runes that impressed themselves onto the beholder."

She decided to bite the bullet.

"Tatia had it," she muttered. "She never touched it to trigger the power, to alert you or Esther or brand her so Finn could see. Some stranger gave it to her. So she took it, and hid it, and when I was living as her _I_ got a hold of it. It was what told me to jump into the Falls... and I used it on Mikeal before I left."

"Wicked," Kol breathed, eyes widening. "What did you do to him?"

"Well," she said, faint. "It used to make me dream things, so it told me how to get home, only after I agreed to use it. So when I picked it up, it changed me; made me really... I don't know. Fortified."

"All those medallions channel power into what the wielder decides it must do. They're true neutral by nature," Kol said. "But for the explicit purpose of paying homage to the god it belongs to. Aries, the god of war, would've thirsted for rage that would stir him in battle. So what did you do to make our father so boiling mad?"

"Uhm." She leaned back into Elijah's arms and studied his clever, elegant fingers. "I might've maybe made him chase me around a forest, faked him out a bunch of times to prove I could, and then left him... slightly impotent."

There was a beat.

Then Kol's peal of nearly hysterical laughter.

Klaus' brows were raised and he had the very ghost of a smile on his face.

"You're joking," he accused.

"Not even a little bit," she tucked Elijah's arms over her belly and put her cheek to his head. "I wanted to hurt him, but... I didn't want to hurt him so much that he couldn't protect the people. So I just... wounded his masculine pride, a little bit. And I had a good teacher."

"Oh yes," Elijah mused, stroking her belly with both hands. "The very best."

As Kol's laughter died down, he sipped his tea. Still smirking, he watched his brother and old ally from under his lashes.

"No wonder it went missing for so long. It skipped a thousand years with you. Where is it now?"

"Hiding," she said flatly. "Away. It can't kill anyone else because of me."

"Anyone else?" Klaus drawled.

"Niklaus," Elijah warned, though Elena thought it best just to mention:

"It killed my aunt Jenna," she said softly. "Because I was trying to keep it close."

Elijah kissed her shoulder, and Elena had the distinct impression that he’d guessed that Jenna’s death might’ve been at her own hand. She wrapped hands around his and threaded their fingers, and swallowed against a hard lump in her throat.

"Anyway," Elena said, shifting on Elijah's knee. "For what it's worth, Kol, I'm glad you're back."

"Likewise," he said, a cheeky grin on his face. "Aries must've known you'd incite that rage in my father. Gods always know who their domain is best served through. That he gave it to Tatia is a joke; she wasn't half the warrior he was – or as vicious as you would turn out to be, as it happens."

"So the rage and battle our father hunted us with for a thousand years," Klaus said icily, and Elena felt it was quite time for her to get inside her nice safe house- "That was because you used magic to make him so? _You_ were the reason he was so relentless in his pursuit?"

"Ah," Kol said, brows contracting. "Well. Yes. That does make rather more sense than his original excuses, now, doesn't it?"

Yeah, just judging by the look Klaus gave her, it was time to go.

She barely made it inside before something came flying through her front window.

* * *

"He's a menace," she murmured, pulling Elijah's arm over her waist. She brought his loose fist up to press a kiss onto the healing knuckles, the heat in them warming her freezing lips. "Did he break everything?"

"Not as much as you think," he said mildly. "I have a cleanup crew coming within the hour. They'll be quiet so you may rest."

"Have they been compelled?"

"Even I can't compel people over the phone, dearest," he chided with good humor. "But I can offer them exorbitant amounts of money. That front window is the most expensive thing in this house."

"I know how much your favorite watch is, so try again." She tucked back into the seat of his body, feeling him still mostly dressed, even down to the belt threaded around his waist. "You're going to supervise?"

"Absolutely." He kissed her shoulder. "I supervised much of the renovations. It would be a shame to have your nice new house ruined just because my wayward brother decided to throw one of his infamous tantrums."

"Are they going to fix the Elijah shaped hole Kol put in the wall?" she said around a yawn.

"They will when they get here," he promised, and kissed just behind her ear. "How are the babies?"

"Fine."

"The Braxton Hicks?"

"Gone." She rubbed the arch of her foot up the length of his calf, humming low. "God, I'm tired."

"Too tired to explain what had Kol's hackles up in your defense? Some secret he knows, that you made him swear not to tell you?" Elijah murmured, still pressing soft kisses into her hair. "Do I have reason to be concerned?"

"Ugh, he's a gross old man," she said, forced lightly, and absolutely lying by omission. "He's just being his regular self. Honestly without a weird threat or bit of flirting would we ever be sure he came back whole and well?"

"Hm," he said simply, and kissed the top of her head. "Yes. You might be right about that."


	27. Sweet Dreams

When Elena next became aware, she was without a pregnant belly, in a field full of pretty, glittering flowers. She became aware that her heart was racing, and Elijah was waiting patiently with his hands up.

His hair was back to being long, a braid twisted to tuck behind his ear. He smiled, slow and careful, then opened his arms to her.

"You were fitful," he said softly. "I didn't intrude, but I did steer you away from wherever you were headed."

She went to him, ducking her head to his chest, closing her hands together behind his back. She breathed him in deep, eyelids heavy, even in the dream she was currently in.

"I only ever know I'm dreaming when your hair looks like that," she murmured.

He rubbed her back, hand smoothing over her entire spine.

"Do you honestly prefer the garish hair of my youth?"

"Sure do," she said absently. "More to grab."

His chest jumped with a chuckle under her ear, and the remaining tension in her shoulders ebbed away.

"Would you like to play?" he said simply.

She hummed, low and pleased.

"That depends,” she said, and blinked at him, nibbling her lower lip. "Will I win?"

His grin was naughty. He tried to conceal it with a gentle peck against her mouth but it was still all teeth.

"Neither of us ever truly lost, if I recall correctly," he said, pressing one of those toothy kisses to her cheek, and then her throat. "But that was a long time ago, for one of us. Do feel free to try and remind me what losing was like. If you can."

All of a sudden Elena's hands were tied as they had been behind his back - a wrist to the opposite elbow, stacked on top of each other. He looked completely at ease as he ducked out from between them, and shed his upper layers, before catching her face with both hands and sucking on her lower lip.

"Mm!" she said in protest, though she was already more than willing to 'play', as he so put it. She turned her face from him and scowled. "Not fair. I don't know how to manipulate dreams."

"Aw," he cooed, and dragged her in to kiss. "My poor love."

She struggled away from him, gasping against his cheek when he tugged her hair, hard, and pulled her into another kiss. She softened, went lax, when he scooped her up into his arms, putting her where he wanted her.

She was dazed when he had finally taken his fill, the slow rounding of his hips pressing up against her let her know he was well on the way to ready. She felt breathless, giddy, pleased and nearly quivering in anticipation. Her mouth was open but no words came out.

"What's this?" he murmured. "Is my pretty love pretending to be timid?"

"I want to be good," she promised, and earned a wide smile from him.

"Oh?" he mused. "Is that so?"

She nodded.

"I want to play," she said. "But I want to be good."

"I'm not sure you know how to play that game," he said, and playfully narrowed his eyes. "But we shall see. You'd best start running."

Elena bolted.

She fled through the flowers and instinctively went for the body of water, splashing through the shallows to come up on the other side and over the hill. There were trees there - all of them a pretty purple bark, their leaves a soft mint tone. There was no twigs, or bones, or rocks under her bare feet, only miles and miles of soft grass. Childproof.

He strolled around a tree, shirtless, head tilted, a smile on his mouth, and caught her around her middle.

"You're out of practice," he said, and kissed her cheek. "Try again."

She looked up at him.

"Maybe I wanted you to catch me."

"You did, did you?" he smiled, pressed another kiss to her cheek, lingering for a moment longer. "Do you always want me to catch you?"

"Back then? Yes. The last month?" she wanted, so badly, to touch him. To stroke his hair, his skin, anything. But her arms were still tied, and she couldn't so much as loosen them. "Also yes."

He cupped her face with both hands, lifting her to kiss her mouth sweetly.

"You run, Elena," he prompted, punctuated by the soft press of his mouth. "And I will follow."

She ran. She ran fast, though not as hard as she was prone to doing. Darting between trees and moving through the landscape like she was born doing it. When he caught her again, he hoisted her in the air under her arms, bringing her down slowly to kiss. Her toes dangling, she swung her feet, pulling from his mouth to arch a brow at him.

"Are you going to do this for the rest of the night?"

"Are you going to let me?" he wondered.

"Maybe I've had enough running."

"I thought you wanted to be good?" He smiled, set her down on her feet, and stroked her hair.

"I do." She tried to touch him and found her arms still bound, with no visible end to the rope. She frowned, and earned a chuckle from him. "Why am I still tied up?"

"Because it's my dream and I want it like that," he reminded her. "As I recall, you were quite good with a rope."

"I was properly motivated," she drawled, unimpressed. "This is different."

"How so?"

"Well I can't get out," she tried to pull her arms apart, but there was no give.

"You can. There is a way. There is always a way."

She blinked, then felt the low curl of heat in her body, watching him watch her. She eyed his trousers - of which did little to hide the growing arousal between them - and then dragged her attention upward, hitting the favorite planes of his body as she went. She struggled a little - partially for his benefit.

He caught under her elbow when she tried to step back.

"I've got you," he said placidly.

"You wanted me to run," she accused, and jerked her arm away from him.

"You told me you'd be good," he recalled mildly. He yanked her forward to bump into his front, and tilted his head at her. "Is this you behaving?"

She bared her teeth in a frustrated grin.

"What do you want me to do, Elijah?" she asked.

"Kneel," he said, and watched her with hungry eyes as she immediately did so. He smoothed her hair away from her face, wetting his lips as he began to pace around her. When he left her field of vision, she felt nervous, but stayed as still as she could. “Do you know what you ruined for me with your time travel? Truly?”

“What?” she murmured, feeling her shoulders hike self-consciously. Would he use this dream to punish her in some twisted way? He couldn’t hurt the babies like this, could he?

He stroked her head, still pacing around her. When he stood in front of her, he presented himself, arching a brow at her.

“Suck,” he said, and she opened her mouth, rolling her tongue into a cup for him to slide his half hard cock against. “You ruined foreplay.”

She hummed. He twitched, then gave her a smile, tracing the side of her face with reverent fingers.

“It must’ve been a hundred, a hundred and fifty years, before I met someone who could passingly please me with a little more than just their sex. You don’t know what that was like.” He wet his lips, let her take the lead on sucking him off. “To know I loved the rope, the running and the struggle. The fun of it. The lead up to such a crescendo the stars wept to see it. You don’t know what it was like, to spend so much time on others, thinking only of how badly I wanted them to ride my tongue the way you did. Or to have to try and explain how I wanted them to sit so prettily on their knees for me.”

He touched the stretch of her lips.

“Your gorgeous mouth… Your greedy, gorgeous mouth… Your lust. Your boldness. Every precious inch of your delicious quim. You don’t know what it was like, to have had you wanting and demanding… So skilled, and sweet… And to know _perfection,_ only to have been made to settle for so much less?” He flexed and she choked, batting open her welling eyes. He cupped her cheek, tilting his head at her. “I waited a _long_ time to find even a fraction of your grace and confidence in the bedroom. If I ever tire of you now, assume I’m very sick.”

She popped off him and caught her breath, a long string of his pleasure leading from her mouth to his tip. He caught it with his thumb, and pressed it to her lips, which she kissed and then sucked on.

“I would apologize,” she said roughly. “But it would be a lie.”

He cracked a naughty grin.

“My, my. Are you jealous, my love?”

“I’m literally sucking you off and you’re talking about all the women you slept with over a thousand years.”

“Did I say only women?” he mused, and trapped her lips shut with his thumb before she could protest. “Behave. Be quiet, and lay down."

She did so. He wasted no time in literally ripping the front of her gown all the way off, making her squeak in surprise. His weight on her was welcomed with a pretty sigh, her thighs shutting tight around his hips. It had been so long since she'd had the length of him fully pressed against her body; she lifted her head to bite at his lip.

"Behave," he warned, and moved her arms above her head.

He bent his head and sucked on her nipples, taking his sweet, agonizing time. No amount of struggling got him to move any faster - in fact, the more she struggled and managed to get away from his mouth, the more he decided to play. He pinched the nipple he wasn't harassing with his teeth and she yelped.

"It shocked me, learning there were names for people like me," he murmured between her breasts. "And people like you. Who liked to chase and bind, and who liked to be chased and be bound. You liked the coaxing of my release when I didn't want to give it; I liked to delay yours."

"Yes," she grunted, hips rolling to catch the weight of him on the apex of her thighs. "I'm acutely aware."

His grin was roguish.

"There were never desires to hurt you, but occasionally I'd leave a mark upon your throat, or your ass, and rediscovering them was... Electric." He bit into her breast with fangs, making her cry out, throw her head back on the grass and arch hard. Her whole body bowed, rose up as he pulled blood from her, groaning loud and long at the sensation that feathered through her veins.

"'Lijah," she chanted. "'Lijah-! 'Lijah, please - please -!"

"Please?" he mused, kissing the bite wound. He sucked a little on the outside of her nipple, then slowly trailed his mouth down, finally. "Please what, my love?"

"Please-" she gasped. "Please touch me."

"I am touching you."

"Touch me," she said through her teeth, glaring down the length of her body at him. "Properly."

"Where?"

She let her head fall to the soft grass and expected it to thump, but it was pillowed instead. She ignored his further cooing for her to tell him where she wanted him - she was still pregnant and her hormones demanded him, despite being in a dream world that lead her to believe otherwise - and said nothing while he kissed her belly button.

"Are you ignoring me?" he said, amused, hands rubbing up her sides. At her silence, he chuckled. "You've been spoiled for touch."

"You haven't even touched me in weeks."

"Ah, so she speaks," he said softly, putting flat teeth into her hip and nipping it enough for her to jerk and mutter a string of swears. "And she speaks _fluently_."

"I'm waking up now," she warned.

"But darling," he said, gripping her hips in his hands. "We're just getting to the good part."

He flipped her bodily and dragged her up by the hips, fixing her firmly on her knees, cheek to the lush grass. Her arms, locked behind her back, were kissed tenderly.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"There were ways which I wanted to be in you, that I'd not suggested."

"When?" she muttered.

She desperately wanted to close her legs to his gaze. She felt exposed and too vulnerable with her ass up and everything on display. But there were sudden ropes around her knees, pinning her open and up, which of course made her struggle. Which of course made him smile, she could hear in his voice.

"Recently," he admitted, and stuck his tongue into her kitty from behind.

She tried to buck both into and away from his face. It was so alarming, for his nose to be right up against her like that - but also, the persistent wiggle of his broad tongue had her whimpering his name into the grass.

The stroke altered from being long and thick, to pistoning deep within, to kittenish as he trailed up to a previously untouched venue for their lovemaking, nursed right up to the fluttering muscles of her body. She would never admit to squeaking, when his tongue made good on the threat to probe a little deeper into her behind - but she absolutely squealed a little when he finally worked her loose enough to fit a finger in.

"Yes?" he murmured against her cheek. "No?"

"Please," she whispered, breathing hard, the grass swaying under her breath. “ _Yes.”_

She couldn't make any more words happen, just noises. She couldn't move and just, take, what she wanted, either. Nor could she get away. It was torturous. She felt her thighs shake at the rush of rightness, the weight of safety and thrill of excitement.

He pumped one finger in her ass, and dragged it out slowly, making her shut her eyes and simply understand the sensation. It was electric, but strange, not unpleasant but surely not enjoyable. Was it?

"So quiet, my love," he said warmly, trailing kisses up her back. She felt his skin against her bare back and sighed, relaxing as he pressed his mouth behind her ear. "I never thought it possible."

She sighed, eyes sliding shut, and felt him shift behind her. His knee fit the inside of her own and before she knew it, he was prodding at her kitty, rubbing down to knock against her clit until she was trying to actively catch him.

"Elijah," she said, drowsy, moaning low in her throat. "Please. Please stop teasing."

"But you wanted to be good," he murmured, still moving the finger in her ass in a slow circle, causing her to jerk and flinch, clench hard around the intrusion. "And you're being so good, for me."

She exhaled hard through her nose.

"If this is what I get for behaving," she muttered. "I'd hate to see what will happen when I don't."

He slid home without warning, his free hand wrapping around her hip to circle her clit.

"Less stimulation," he said with good humor, and fucked her hard.

* * *

She woke pulsing, legs shut tight against a phantom hand. She keened high, met by Elijah's mouth in the darkness, breathing hard, swallowing the noise. She framed his head in her hands, missing his lengthy hair, though the spikes would do for the minute.

He had her hauled to his chest, crushing her breasts between them, but never the babies.

She tilted her head back for blessed air and he dove in to suck a hard mark against her throat.

"Sensitive." She wiggled a hand between their chests and pushed lightly. "Boobs."

"Sorry," he panted against her collarbone, and let her out of his desperate grab.

"S'fine." She was drunk with the orgasm, of her giddy joy. "Get into bed."

His teeth pressed against her skin instead of a kiss.

"I've made-..." he brought his mouth to her ear. "Somewhat a mess, Elena."

Ooh. She loved his messes. She reached out and found him still half hard, though deflating, and then dragged her hand up his still clothed chest to feel the slick of his release soaking into his shirt. She brought her hand to her mouth and sucked off whatever was there, earning a growl in the darkness that made her heart jolt in anticipation.

"When will I learn," he muttered. "If I want to satisfy you, I must have you begging."

"It’s been a while for you," she said, amused. "You’re an old man, after all. Your memory might be going."

"You're going to go over my knee if you keep that up, young lady," he warned playfully.

But the idea didn't completely miss.


	28. Daddy Issues

It was only a matter of time, really, before the nice lull of excitement gave way to a thousand years' worth of sibling bickering.

Elena wasn't even sure how it happened; they were only supposed to be having a garden party to meet Freya- the true eldest Mikealson. A nice day. Maybe due for a little heat from Klaus, but otherwise, the mood was to be placid. Joyful. Familiar.

Honestly? She should've expected the proverbial shit to hit the hypothetical fan.

"Please excuse them," Freya said, walking quickly to where Elena was using both arms of the chair to lift herself into standing. "They've been like this for the last week."

"You're kidding," Elena said, bewildered.

Klaus was red faced - Kol's lips were pinched so hard they bore no blood. Both were glaring at each other from below their brows, and suddenly Elena had visions of all her new garden furniture being smashed and used as weapons.

Elijah heaved a huge sigh, and got to his feet, buttoning his coat.

"I suppose I should go and intervene," he said, wearily exasperated.

He gave the top of Elena's head a kiss, hand brushing over her swollen belly, then moved toward his brothers with his shoulders set.

"Take a seat," Elena said, patting the spot that Elijah had vacated. "How are you adjusting to having Kol back?"

"Honestly, I thought that having Elijah out of the house might help," she admitted. "Klaus misses him. So when Kol came back and was only popping in and out to stir up trouble, I really thought that the distance would... create fondness..." It was as if she had said something unintentionally stupid in her optimism; she shielded her eyes with her lashes and looked down.

Elena patted her hand.

"They'll get over it," she said mildly.

"I hope so."

A wayward punch to the rise of her stomach made her eye twitch. With her hand still over Freya's, she steered her palm to the hit, and waited for another.

The aunt's mouth popped open in shock, a smile somehow finding her face.

"We don't like shouty," Elena explained, at Klaus' raised voice.

"They react to the noise?"

"Oh yeah. When they're misbehaving Elijah usually has to have words with them." Her smile was broad. She heard one of the boys using the words _'unimaginable twat'_ and rolled her eyes. "He's still a little affronted that someone in there prefers AC/DC over Bach."

"How do you know?" Freya said, her eyes wide as a fist impressed on the inside of her palm.

"Because they generally stop trying to kickbox my lungs when AD/DC is on."

"Generally," Freya laughed, and she too looked up to her brothers as their volume increased. "It's not like them to yell."

Elijah had physically stepped in between them, a fist caught in Kol's shirt to keep him at arm's length. It seemed to make very little difference to the younger brother, who kept trying to step forward to go toe-to-toe with his hybrid brother.

"Should we go inside?" Elena called over to them.

"You, stay out of it," Klaus snapped at her.

"Mind your tone," Kol barked, throwing his body forward to rip his shirt in Elijah's fist. He shoved Klaus hard enough to push the breath out of his lungs, just before Elijah caught him by the scruff and yanked him back a few steps. Kol paid it little mind, jabbing an accusing finger in Klaus' direction. "You have _no idea_ how much you owe that woman!"

"Kol!" Elena warned, getting up, everyone going forgotten as she ducked Elijah's arm to stand before Kol, hand on the crease of his elbow. She looked up at him with big eyes, shaking her head.

"He cannot," he said flatly, tapping her chest with that still pointed finger. "He _cannot_ , speak to you like that!"

"Kol." She took his hand between both of her own. "Walk it off. Go. Cool down in the house."

"I won't have it," he seethed, eyes flicking up to Klaus, who was glaring at him from under his brows. "I won't have him show such blatant disrespect, not to you. Not after all you did for him."

"Walk," she said, urging him with hands wrapped around his tense fist. "Come on. Come with me. Walk it off."

"Oh, I suppose you'll take this brother from me too?" Klaus demanded of the back of her skull. "Is that your plan? Is that why Freya is here? Do you mean to steal my entire family?"

"I'm not talking to you when you're like this," Elena shot over her shoulder.

"And I won't be spoken to by some wayward, gold-digging-"

"Our father accosted her," Kol said blandly, and the garden fell completely silent. " _Because of you."_

Elena shoved his chest.

"Shut up, Kol," she demanded. He paid her exactly zero attention. She shoved him again. "You promised you would never say."

"What do you mean," Elijah said, his voice dark. " _Accosted_?"

"Kol," Elena said, and dug her heels in to try and push him. He only moved to be polite, she was pretty sure. He took her forearms in his hands and held her lightly, as though supporting her - while she maintained trying to push him away. "Kol, you promised!"

"She paid your dues, Nik. Every time you were supposed to be beaten after the time he tore open your back, she caught his ire," the youngest brother went on, voice dripping in fury. "He summoned her to the forest and he made her -"

"Kol!" Elena said, shaking his shoulder. "Shut up!"

"He made her pretend to like it," he went on, hands tightening, not unkindly on her. "He made her pretend that she wanted him - that she desired him the same way she desired Elijah. He lured her there and told her-"

"Please," she said, giving up on shoving him. He let her arms go and pulled her in, keeping her head under his chin, protective arms wrapped around her. Her belly was so big it hit his before the rest of her did, but that didn't stop him from cradling her skull to his chest like a child. "Kol, shut up, _please_ shut up-"

"As long as she kissed him, as long as she paid with her mouth and her affection, he would spare you," he went on, gaining speed, but lowering volume. "He told her that he would keep his temper only if she kissed him enough to stir his passion, that he would then go back home and try to have another child with mother, and she did it so he'd stop laying his hands on _you_ -"

"Stop it." Elena put her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut tight. She didn't want to see, or hear, anything that came after that. It would devastate Elijah, and it would wound Klaus' unimaginable pride. "Take it back. Take it back."

"And you pretend that she has no love for you? You didn't see her," he seethed. "The way she stood for you. You didn't see, not with your nose in the dirt from where our father broke and left you. How she stood between he and your broken flesh; when he had her cornered, alone, terrified out of her mind, so blindly in love with Elijah but so unwilling to let harm come to you despite her terror of him-"

"Kol," she begged, but knew it wouldn't stop him. It was done. The secret was out. Her neck was burning in shame and she felt like her skin was crawling. The babies twisted, shook up her insides, and she clutched Kol's shoulders to keep from doubling over.

"And you think I will let you speak to her like you have been?" Kol cupped the back of her head. "You think I will stay my tongue any longer, when you wound her heart without truly knowing it?"

That was too much. She couldn't hear any more. She didn't want to be there. She ducked out from under Kol's bear hug and waddled as fast as she could for the house, hands clamped around her ears.

The heat of embarrassment, suffocating weight of unimaginable shame, ugly fear and sharp guilt swirled in her chest like a storm. She crashed through her lovely house and couldn't make it up the stairs before her babies decided that enough was enough with the movement and emotions thing, and made her sit down on the landing to catch her breath.

They rolled within her, clearly displeased with her current state, but she couldn't stop. She would've already gone on the run if they hadn't made her sit down and try to breathe, for which she was only begrudgingly grateful.

Freya came first, her eyes huge with the revelation. She took Elena by the hands and pulled her to her feet, and then led her to a car that they got into and started driving.

She didn't cry. She was too scared to cry. She just put her hands over her belly and stared out the window.

* * *

"My father was the most important person in my world," Freya said softly. "I adored him. He never treated me poorly. To hear what he turned into - what he did to Klaus, and to you, for trying to protect him... I never know what to think."

Elena didn't say anything. What could she say? She couldn't imagine Mikeal ever being anything but a gross old man and a vampire, let alone a parent.

“Was he good to you?” Elena murmured.

“The best,” Freya agreed. “He loved me. I never went a day thinking anything less.”

The car stuttered to a halt. Freya had forgotten to gas it, and although it would've been funny at any other time, Elena wasn't laughing.

"I'm so, so sorry," Freya said, voice wobbly. "For everything that my family has put you through."

Elena just nodded, dazed, eyes focused out the window.

They sat like that for a long time. An hour, maybe two. It was enough that she watched the shadows on the floor move with the sun's orbit.

They were in the sticks, out near a swamp, so it stood to reason that her heart leapt into her throat when she saw a car roll up behind them, and Elijah get out of the passenger's side. Kol was already walking before the car had even stopped, and Klaus was quick to follow when he'd finally parked.

Elena pushed open the door, easing into standing, head lowered, the instinct in her to _run_.

"How did you find us?" she asked the dirt.

"You wear Kol's necklace to keep yourself hidden, but Freya does not," Elijah supplied. "Look at me, please."

"I'm gonna throw up," she said, and felt her whole face contort as she fought off tears. She turned from him and grabbed the door with a sudden head spin.

"Then throw up," he said flatly, turning her back to face him. "But you will look at me."

She held her face in both hands.

"No."

"Elena." He took her arms in tense, trembling hands. He tried to pry them down but she wouldn’t let go. " _Elena_. You have no reason to be frightened. My anger isn't for you."

"I'm not frightened," she retorted, and burst into tears. "I'm _ashamed_!"

"No," he said clearly, dragging her in to bawl openly against his chest. "No. Don't you dare."

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Elijah, I – he didn’t – you didn’t see him, he was gonna kill Klaus-“

“Stop,” he said firmly, and she stopped. “I’m not angry with you. You protected my brother, and you did it in the only way you were given. I adore you, dearest. I adore your love. Your humanity, my god. Please, stop crying.”

She couldn’t.

Elena had treated the entire situation with Mikeal’s ‘payments’ like a distant dream. Her validation that she had done the right thing was written in the healing that Klaus had done when he had been in those few months of reprieve. She mostly ignored the thought of their father, aside from the fact that his ghost had recently stalked her brother.

“Do something,” Freya hissed.

“I don’t know what to do,” Klaus said weakly. “What to say.”

“Say ‘thank-you!’”

“Thank you?” he tried awkwardly.

Elena sniffed, and trapped her pathetic whining into Elijah’s chest. She kept her face hidden behind her hands and smothered most of the noise, cutting her heaving breaths short. Her belly was jerking between them and she knew no matter how quiet she made the tears, they would all know anyway.

“Elena, I’m angry at my father for putting you in that position.” Elijah’s voice was strained, trying very hard to be calm. “I’m even angrier that I never protected you from it.”

“I didn’t want you to know!” she blurted.

“If Kol had found out, I should’ve too,” was his reasoning. And it was solid logic, she supposed.

“I knew Kol was watching,” she confessed, and surfaced to heave in clean air into stifled lungs. “I needed him to be guilty so I could get him to make the ward for me!”

“Oh, clever,” Kol said mildly. “You’re right. I did only do that to pay you back for minding my brother.”

“Why did you need that ward?” Freya asked.

“I-“ she choked. Everything was coming unraveled. “I challenged Mikeal to track me. I told him to use whatever means necessary to find me. I thought he’d use magic when he got frustrated.”

“Mikeal hated the use of magic in hunting,” Klaus murmured.

“Not when the hunt lead to a pretty girl, surely,” Kol drawled.

“I also thought-“ she interjected before they could continue and weasel out of her what the bounty was for his hunt – one willing night with her, spent on the top of the Falls under the moon – and swallowed thickly. “That Esther – might know – Mikeal and I-… So if I needed to run…” She tried to slow her breathing, put one hand down on her stomach.

“My family has never treated you right,” Elijah said, haunted. He pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. “Running. Hiding. Lying. Horrendous deals and abhorrent circumstances. Brutality. Injustice. Is it any wonder you were frightened to tell me how long you’d spent in time? My love is no match for their torment. You were right to have concerns.”

“Don’t say that,” she said wetly. “Your love is the reason I came back.”

She put both hands on her belly, and he slid one down to rub the back of her hand, then framed the uncovered side to earn a mindful kick. It must’ve been Toby, because it was the harder kick out of the two of them – and he usually knew when his father’s hand was on her stomach.

“Look at me,” Elijah urged her.

“No,” she said, and actually shut her eyes in case she was tempted.

“Elena, look at me,” he said, taking her chin in his crooked finger. She wrenched it away, hiding against his chest. “The shame you feel - I have to remedy it. I love you. Do not hide. Look at me, sweetheart.”

She didn’t want to. She really, really didn’t want to.

“I didn’t know you would interfere for me,” Klaus muttered. “I knew – obviously, I knew you _had_. I knew you’d gotten between him and I before in the thick of his brutality. But I thought you had something over him to keep yourself safe. I never knew you’d suffer… for me. I didn’t know. I’m -… I… I should thank you, but it doesn’t feel right, not when it’s made you -…” He waved a hand at her overall appearance, hidden in her lover’s chest and still weeping quietly, unable to look at anyone in the face.

“Everything makes me cry,” she defended lightly. “There are babies happening, in here.”

“No kidding. You look ready to pop,” Kol said. “It looks uncomfortable.”

“It is,” she assured him.

“Your back is all bent out,” he said, screwing up his nose. “That can’t feel nice.”

“It doesn’t,” she agreed, and found that she was looking at him.

He cracked a grin; it had been his intention to get her unearthed. She still didn’t look at Klaus or Freya, though they watched her with very similar looks of mortified concern. (It was probably the most familial she’d seen them looking, truth be told.)

“You know,” Kol said lightly. “Thirteen hundreds Siberia, there was a man who told me that if he fucked me for a night, he would give me magic beans. That was his price. And I paid it.”

“Relevance?” Elijah said, exasperated.

“I knew full well they weren’t bloody magic.” His grin was made of naughty things. “And I never cared to mention that to him, the dashing bastard. Sex has always been a bartering tool, darling, and it happens to the best of us. The fact that you gave something so precious as your affection to protect someone who you hated is nobler than you clearly think.”

“I didn’t hate Klaus,” she protested.

“Why?” the younger brother mused. “You’d have leave to, you know.”

“I didn’t hate Klaus,” she repeated. “He… I _don’t_ hate Klaus.”

There was a lull in conversation. She wiggled up a hand to wipe her face and then dipped into Elijah’s coat to steal the handkerchief he kept in there. She blew her nose and got rid of some of the blockage, and tucked her head against the curve of his shoulder, sighing.

“Thank you,” Klaus said softly. “For protecting me. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“You never deserved what he did to you,” she retorted fiercely, flicking her attention to him. “Never, Klaus. I would do it again.”

He flinched under her look, bowing his head to her. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and she realized that he was flushed; pink in the tops of his ears and beginning in the high points of his cheeks. Henrik used to blush like that, starting from the crest of his head and then flooding down when he was truly flustered.

Elena cast her eyes up at Elijah, who immediately looked to her, a thumb smoothing over a lonely tear about to fall off her jaw. He pressed a kiss to the center of her forehead.

“Forgive me?” she asked him.

“Forgive me first,” he countered.

She touched his solemn mouth with reverent fingertips.

“You can make it up to me later,” she said with a small smile. She felt the purse of his mouth and saw the curl of his lip when he caught her meaning. Later was bedtime. Bedtime was playtime.

“Insatiable,” he murmured, and kissed her fingers, bending to catch one from her lip.

“Can we go now?” Kol said brightly. “All is said and done?”

“Not everything,” Elena said, and she eased out from Elijah’s grip, going tentatively to touch Klaus’ arm.

He didn’t move but for his eyes, which flicked up to her face.

“I am thankful,” he said. “I just also wish you hadn’t done it. He was a monster to me, and I expected that. To hear he’d forced your hand-“

“Hey,” she said softly, and swallowed when he stopped his guilty rambling. She wanted to forget it. She could tell by the twist of his boot heel in the dirt he did too. “Do you-… want to feel the babies?”

She never thought she’d see the hybrid cry. And he didn’t, not really. But he got misty, and wiped his face roughly, before offering his hand to her. She placed it on the swell of her heavy belly and there was a fluttering of interest in her womb. A delicate nudge.

“Why does Klaus get first uncle rights?” Kol said, and put his own hand on her stomach. There a spark; it licked up her spine like a battery. He jolted, ripped his hand away, but it hadn’t hurt her. “ _Jesus_. That’s a _hell_ of a witch in there.”

“Who?” Elijah said, coming to stand by her.

“Who knows? One? Both?” He dropped into a crouch and put his ear to her stomach. “Hello children, it’s your favorite uncle, here-“

“Bollocks,” Klaus said, and shoved his head away to press his other hand to the swell of her. “I’ll spoil them both rotten before you ever get a look in at favorite, witch or no.”

Elena arched a brow at his soft smile down at her belly, both hands curved around her extra girth. He was still smiling when he looked up at her, sheepish.

“You can’t spoil them any more than Elijah plans to,” she guessed.

“Yes I can,” he said, and she kind of believed that he would at least try.


	29. Luncheon

At 33 weeks, Elena agreed to have a luncheon at the compound in New Orleans with the entire family to try and do the whole… nice, assembled thing, when there were no more secrets to come spilling out.

(She refused to host it. Elijah agreed. _Someone,_ and he didn’t mention _who_ , had broken all her lovely garden furniture. She suspected _he_ was the culprit. Kol told her later, he was.)

She was nervous about how much could go wrong, and the babies were unsettled. Not that she had many huge secrets left to spill, but who knew what might come bubbling up when the entire clan had assembled. Her Braxton hicks were playing up and honestly, she just didn't want to go, but Elijah deserved a break from being her babysitter. And she was kind of looking forward to getting to know the mother of Elijah's niece – and the little girl herself.

When they entered, there was food everywhere; piled in order from snacks to sweets to salads and then carbs and meats; stacked on pretty dishes in high wire towers. Elena raised her brows at Elijah.

"That's such a lovely spread," she said politely. "What will everyone else be having?"

He cracked a brilliant smile and that was all it took to put her at ease.

Kol made it his business to greet her and then swoop down and tell the babies hello. He got an awful zap again. This one made his hair stand on end visibly, though he thought it was actually hilarious and did it again.

Hayley, the baby momma, had Hope on her hip, shy under Elena’s unfamiliar attention.

“Hi there,” she said warmly, and Hayley palmed the baby off to Elijah to pull her into a quick hug.

“How’s your back?”

“Killing me.”

“You look like you need a nap.”

“I need ten,” Elena confessed, and sighed when Hayley rubbed her spine. “Oh my god. It hurts all the time.”

“I missed most of that, I think, because of the wolf gene,” Hayley told her. “But I had enough that I sure don’t envy you. Come sit. Do you want something to drink?”

“Just something cold, please, thank you,” she said, taking the love seat.

The open space had been decorated with pretty strings of fairy lights, amongst all the food. Elijah bobbed the baby on his hip, earning a peal of shy giggles, and let her hide under his clean shaven chin. And Elena got it, because that was where she liked to hide, too.

“I bought my niece and nephew gifts,” Kol said. “Because I am their best uncle and you must tell them that.”

“Oh boy,” Freya said under her breath, making Elena laugh.

“What is it?” Elijah asked at the two woven bags. They looked unremarkable from the outside. Both were white ribbons, one with a tiny silver beetle, and the other a tiny bird.

“They are for scrying,” he said, clearly pleased with himself. He unearthed the one with the beetle, showing them a length of cord filled with shiny gemstones. The end was a diamond in a tear drop shape, clasped in delicate, vine-like wire. “Or decorating a nursery. A witch is nothing without their scrying tools, and I had these loaded with protection spells and good vibrations.”

“That’s really kind, Kol,” Elena said, reaching out to touch the diamond drop. “Thank you.”

“And if they ever decide to run away,” he went on broadly. “They can snap the throng and sell these beauties for a pretty coin.”

“Less kind,” Elijah muttered, mindful of Hope so close to his mouth. “Thank you, brother.”

Elena hoisted herself up, taking Klaus’ offered hand while Elijah was busy with his daughter. Her belly gave an awful twinge and she screwed up her nose.

“Alright?” Klaus said.

“Uh, yeah,” she said, though her face couldn’t quite relax. “Yeah, it’s just Braxton Hicks.”

“How long have you had them?” Kol said.

“Uh, a while,” she realised. She’d been so preoccupied with getting ready for the party and trying to play off how much she didn’t want to be there, she had kind of just let them happen. She went to take the offered little bags and detoured to brace on Klaus' forearm. She stared at the floor, breath suddenly short. “Uh, ac-ow, actually… all day, now that I… now that I think about it.”

There was a surge of wetness between her legs and she looked down, actually feeling the blood go from her face when she realized what it was. The muscles in her gut clenched and she grunted, digging her nails into Klaus.

"Elena?" Elijah said.

"Don’t freak out," she blurted. “But this might not be fake labor.”

"What?" Klaus supported under her arm. “What else is it supposed to be?”

She watched, mortified, as the front of her skirt caught the wetness and started to spread a dark puddle against her mulberry skirt.

"Yeah, that would be my water," she exhaled, short. “Breaking."

“Oh _shit_ ,” said Kol.

"It's so early," Hayley said, eyes widening. She set aside the cups she’d brought back and hurried to take her daughter out of Elijah’s arms so he could support Elena’s other hand, which dug into his wrist. "You have over a month left-"

"Water is breaking right now," she said, more firmly. "Elijah. Car."

"Let me help you-"

"Call the doctor," she said, and shoved him. "Go. Call the doctor. The number is in the dash. Tell her babies, right now. They're happening. Not Braxton hicks. My water just broke. I think – I think I might‘ve been in labor all day. Since this morning. Since I got out of the shower. Like nine-ish? Ow."

“Elena-“ he started.

“Momma needs a doctor, daddy,” she said, and shoved him again. “Please?”

The second he was out of her sight she swung around and grabbed Klaus' other shoulder, breathing out long and hard. She chewed her tongue and tried to focus her breathing, but it was so early. Over a month away from their due date! And the books all said that she’d give birth early, especially for twins, but…. This was… _early,_ early.

"Klaus. Can you," she said through her teeth. "Make sure he's not freaking out?"

"Well I don’t know, love, there are slightly more important things happening right now than my brother's mental health-"

"HE'S NOT DRIVING MY BABIES ANYWHERE IF HE'S GONNA CRASH THE CAR," she shouted and doubled, hands in claws on his arms. Ow. Ow _. Ow_. "Jesus _Christ this is fucking horrific._ "

Hayley's hot hands braced her back. Hope started to cry in Kol’s arms, and he bopped her, hushing her gently, murmuring in a different tongue.

"Elijah won't drive if you don't want him to drive," Hayley said. "I will. Stop holding your breath and breathe through the pain. How long are you apart?"

"I don't know," Elena choked. "It's happening _now._ "

"Breathe," Hayley rubbed her back.

All she could see was Klaus' boots, because she hadn't yet been able to stand up and let go of his arms, but he was gripping her elbows like he was holding her up.

“Make sure he’s not gonna crash the car,” she groaned into the floor.

“He won’t,” Klaus promised her. “He would never put you or his children in that kind of danger.”

“HE’D BETTER NOT,” she yelled into the tiles as another horrific squeeze happened in her insides. She shuddered, breathless, and stomped her foot. “I LOST MY PARENTS IN AN ACCIDENT AND I’M NOT LOSING MY BABIES!”

She gasped for breath and waddled slightly; Hayley helped her stand, kept telling her how to breathe, and running soothing hands over her spine. She didn't let go of Klaus for a solid minute, then held onto her stomach. There was definitely fluid on her legs, and not the 'oops-someone-pressed-my-bladder' kind, the thick kind that smelled different to an accident.

"Okay. Sorry. We don't like shouty," she huffed at the hybrid’s bewildered face. "That _hurt_. I'm sorry, Klaus. Can you go talk to Elijah, please?"

He just kind of, nodded, and blurred away. In the garage, a car had started, and Elena looked at Hayley, heart in her throat.

"You did this _naturally_?"

"Yup. On a stone table. While my baby was being taken by an evil witch cult to be sacrificed." She shrugged. "Then they slit my throat."

"Uh huh." She gulped. "Scale of one to ten. Rather throat slitting or childbirth?"

"Oh, throat slitting," Hayley said easily, bracing her arm to help her waddle to the garage. "Like, slit it twice. You're gonna have two of them. Breathe. You have this under control. You were built for this."

“I was built for this,” she repeated. “I have this under control.”

“I don’t,” Kol muttered, forgotten, with his wailing niece in his arms.

* * *

Words flew around her head and she was already sick of hospitals before the car even skidded into the parking bay, but after Elijah blurred her inside and demanded for them to _help her_.

Words like 'premature', 'breach', 'emergency' kept coming at her.

Elijah was bloodless in scrubs and barely let go of her hand long enough to put them on, sweating so much his hair was falling forward on his brow.

The pain was immeasurable. But when her son was born, it was a far, far away memory. The second that baby was shown to her, she felt like she had been made anew. Despite the second child actively being born, when she saw Toby - his gross, wet, precious and perfect little screaming face, she felt wholly and solely complete.

Yes, Toby was a meaty little guy with a crazy set of lungs, but their daughter was his polar opposite.

She was tiny and too skinny, and she was not the right color. There was a lot of shouting - _we don't like shouty_ \- and panicking for a few minutes once the second child was pulled out of her. She was mid-way through having the afterbirth removed when two cries met her ears instead of only her son's.

* * *

Elena couldn't stop weeping when they were taken away. Elijah just held her hand to his mouth and sat in his scrubs, staring dead ahead at an empty wall.

The appearance of his family was a welcome relief, but Elena still didn't stop crying.

"They're in neonatal intensive care," came, rough, from Elijah's throat. "Tobias is fine. They say he's not as bad..."

"What's wrong?" Freya dared whisper. "What's wrong with the little girl?"

Elena turned her face from them all, still sobbing.

"She can't breathe," he said softly. "Her throat… There are tubes..."

"It's normal," Hayley said, coming to take Elena's other hand. She stroked her face, her own eyes watery. "Your babies are premature. They just need a little bit of extra time and care, okay? This happens every day."

“No,” Elena moaned. “Something is _wrong_. Something is wrong with her. She’s too small. They think-“ She heaved for breath.

But she couldn't stop crying to talk and explain. Everything hurt. Even if the drugs took off the sharpness of her pain, it was still there. There were apparently no complications with her; she'd been the perfect birthing parent. But her baby girl... her poor, struggling baby...

“My daughter is so small,” Elijah said softly. “They think Elena fell pregnant a second time, while carrying Toby. They estimate her age to be about five months.”

“It’s impossible,” Freya said.

“Obviously,” Elijah said, his volume soft but tone absolutely icy. “The only man she lay with was _me_.”

“Maybe it’s nutritional,” Hayley said. “One twin can consume a lot of the nutrients.”

“I should’ve stayed,” Elena sobbed. “I should never have left you. This is my fault. This is my fault.”

“Your doctor didn’t even identify a second baby, though,” Kol reminded her helpfully. “How is this your fault for not knowing there was two?”

“My fault,” Elena said, the words blurring in her head. “It’s all my fault.”

"Your blood," Klaus said. "Brother. Go in there and give the baby your blood."

Elijah swallowed.

"She-" he stopped, lip trembling. "Her little throat, brother. It’s too weak to support even her breathing. To remove the tubes to feed her -...She might die before I could."

"She'll be fine." At the bellowing silence in the room, Klaus huffed like a bothered horse. "I'll do it myself, then."

Elena pulled her hand out of Elijah's and directed what she felt was a truly pitiful look at Klaus, heaving for breath, wiping her face. The cannula in her hand caught on something and pulled, and she flinched at it, barely lucid, pain in her body and in her heart.

"Klaus," she whimpered. "Please. Don't."

"My niece," he said, firm. "Will survive. She is a Mikealson, and I am her uncle. We already share blood - this is what we do."

"You promised," she said, mouth trembling. "You _promised_ you wouldn't interfere."

"That was before her life was in danger, and the two of you decided not to do anything about it!" he snapped back.

"Klaus, please. She can’t _breathe_. Please. My baby… Please don’t." She spiraled into painful sobs that tore open the stitches, and began to spill blood in the bed. Elijah already passed her his wrist, but she turned from it and suffered. She deserved the pain. It was her fault the little ones were suffering now, it had to be. They hadn't done anything to deserve such a start to life.

Maybe it was because she had traveled through time, or hadn't fed herself properly when she'd removed herself from Elijah's vicinity in the future. Maybe it was having ever dealt with Aries' medallion, utilizing the power of a war god, or the running and one off brawl she’d gotten into with Stefan.

Maybe it was because she kissed Mikeal. She would never know. But it had to be _her_ fault.

"Klaus. If you leave this room," Hayley warned, a touch of growl in her voice. "I will pull your head off. She's got enough on her plate. Respect it."

Elena knew they kept talking but she didn't care enough to listen. She only knew that Klaus wasn't rushing headlong to stop her daughter's breathing to feed her blood, so she laid there and wept and heard nothing.


	30. An Aria for the Ages

Toby was just so perfect. So soft and sweet, and he smelled like pure baby, and Elena couldn't stop kissing his little fingers, his tiny nails, his perfect velvet head. He was going to have dark hair, and when he blinked open his eyes to scowl, they were his father's brand of chocolate. She touched his nose with her forefinger, delicately stroking the shape of it. Elijah's too, undoubtedly, the shape was just much smaller and a little chubbier.

He latched to her nipple and it _hurt_ , but she didn't care, she didn't even flinch. At least he was there. At least he was real, and warm, and taking life from her.

"There you go," said the nurse. "Oh, perfect. Well done. Hurt?"

Elena couldn't smile, but she wanted to. She nodded her head incrementally and a long strand of hair fell onto her son's blanket.

Elijah stroked it back, set it right behind her ear. He lingered for a second at the bedside, then touched the chubby roll of his son's arm, fingertip tracing the crease in his skin. Elena shifted away from him, taking the baby with her, and Elijah went to the other side of the room, having been dismissed.

It was strange.

She was filled with this… impossible love. Her soul was completely glowing and warm, everything about this precious moment with her baby perfect and whole. All her life? All of her heartache and sorrow and misery? Didn’t exist anymore. Everything was stripped back to the ghost of nothingness in the wake of that baby’s noisy drinking. Had she ever even loved before she had held her little boy?

But then there was the searing agony of the unknown, too. Of not being able to see or hear or hold her daughter. That suffering was not dull beneath her love. It screamed. It tore shreds into her glowing soul and it mocked the joy trying to fill her heart. The devastation she had known during her years had not been insignificant, but in comparison to the thought of losing her little girl… Elena had never felt anything like it.

So she was created, but unmade. She was blessed; she was cursed. It was the best day of her life, and the ultimate worst. She would do everything in her power to keep Toby happy and healthy and whole and well… but her daughter had been taken into someone else’s hands, and couldn’t be promised the same.

“Is there anything I can do?” Elijah asked softly. His voice was wrecked, as though he’d been screaming. But he’d been dutifully by her side for the entire ordeal, and he’d barely said a word. At her slow head shake, he tried a different route. “Should I send for Jeremy?”

She shook her head again.

“Who’s Jeremy?” the nurse prompted. She was idly checking over a few of Elena’s charts, and either willfully ignoring the tone of the room or truly immune to awkward environments.

“Her brother,” Elijah offered.

“Oh, if you need to use the phone, dear, you’re more’n welcome,” she said, motioning with a glittery pencil in the direction of Elena’s bedside. She didn’t look up from the chart, Elena didn’t look up from her son, and Elijah didn’t look from her. “No time like the present to mend broken bridges.”

Elena didn’t care about Jeremy. That was a bridge she could rebuild later. There were… too many things she needed to consider, and none of them took her brother’s shape.

Would Toby grow up an only child? Would he be closer to Hope, without his twin? Would he ever know that something was missing in his life, or would he one day joke that he took up all the room in her belly? Would Elijah name their daughter if she didn’t survive? What if she didn’t like the name he picked? (It didn't matter what name he picked, it was already scored into Elena’s heart, and it was burning.) What if the machines couldn’t keep her alive? Would the only thing that she ever knew about her little girl be that something had gone wrong? Would she never get a chance to see her little girl wail, and kick, and fuss? Would she never have a daughter?

"When can we see her?" she asked, without ever taking her eyes off of Toby's slowly shutting lids. His eyelashes were perfect. He smelled so good.

The nurse made noises. Elena only understood them insofar as after she was feeding Toby, they could go. That Elijah could wheel her down in the chair they had provided, and she would be able to look at her daughter through the glass.

Fat chance she was gonna put Toby down any time soon. He was so soothing to her that the thought of releasing him at all was making her frightened of how bad her feelings were going to be when he was gone from her grip.

"You go," Elena muttered, and brought her nose down to barely graze her son’s forehead. God, she so badly wanted to kiss him. But he was so young to the world, and his immune system might be weird if he was half Viking... "You go first. We're not done yet."

She didn’t know how much time had passed for Toby to finish feeding and be burped; to lay, sweet and full and warm, heavy in her arms. He was just so magical. Her little miracle baby. She stroked his full red cheeks with the tip of her finger and dreamed about what he would be like when he grew up, taking the agonizing time to create worlds in which he both did and didn’t have a sister. Schrodinger’s twin.

The click of the lock should’ve made her feel at least a little trepidatious. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of Toby’s gummy lashes for so long they were starting to imprint on her blinking lids. Honestly, anyone could’ve walked in the room and she would’ve been completely unaware. Someone could scream her name in surround sound, and she would never have cared.

But the tiny breathy bleating?

Got her attention.

Elijah had their daughter in his arms, smiling down at the soft pink bundle with a tear trailing off his nose. There was no doubt that it was their baby because Elena felt his heart expanding three times too big for his chest. He approached the bedside, gazing with all the love in the world at the tiny baby in his embrace. Perching on the edge of the bed, the Original tilted his arms to show their baby off.

So, so tiny. Not as rosy, but growing more and more so as Elena watched. Alive, and not hooked into many, many machines. Amazing. Breathing. Alive.

"Elena," he said, voice wobbly. "I named her."

"How is she _here_?" she gasped. “What did you _do_?”

"A drop," his voice crackled. He brought up the child for another kiss, and she squirmed but settled with a gentle rocking. "A drop of blood. Around the tubes. I didn’t remove them. I just went around them. She didn’t ch-… She breathed easier. I had to. I had to try."

His elegant finger stroked the lobe of his daughter's ear, fascinated by her peach soft skin. He bowed his head and shut his eyes to break the line of tears, mouth shaking as he cooed in his mother tongue.

“She could’ve choked,” Elena whispered.

"I couldn't leave her," he whispered desperately. He looked hunted, eyes red and swollen and hair a mess by his standard. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and temples, and he twisted his mouth in revulsion. "They said I had to _leave_. But I couldn't. I couldn’t let her be surrounded by those noises, and those sick babies… Not _my_ baby. Not our girl. I had to try.”

Elena nodded. Her bottom lip trembled as she looked up at him, staring with utter devotion down at his child. He felt her eyes impressing on his skin but didn't look at her, ashamed, maybe, by the risk he took to heal his child. She pressed her head to his arm in lieu of being able to touch him with her hands.

“What’s her name?”

"She’s the air in my lungs. She’s every song in my head," he said, and breathed easy. "Her name is Aria."

“Perfect,” Elena whispered, eyes filling with fat tears. “I love it. Hello, Aria. Come say hello to your brother.”

* * *

After the day they were brought home, Elena had showed off her son to a number of Mikealson family members. It lingered in the back of her mind that she should probably have texted Jeremy, but watching Kol snuggling her little blue bundle was probably more than enough uncle love for one day.

“Look at this grip,” Klaus was cooing, looking down at Tobias. His forefinger was being held in a wrinkly hand. “He’ll hold a sword in no time, mark my words. The boy’s a natural.”

“Give me a hold,” Freya said to Elijah, who was cradling Aria.

“No,” he said, and sounded deceptively mild. “I’m not ready to let her go.”

“Are we already implementing the over-protective daddy routine?” Elena mused. “Because even Klaus has less cling with Hope. And that’s saying something.”

She leaned her head on Klaus’ arm in a show of good faith, knowing he couldn’t withdraw without unwinding the fragile grip on his finger. He cast her a sideways glance, then continued to coo at the baby with a slightly pleased tilt to his mouth.

“There’s a very real chance I may never let her out of my arms,” Elijah warned gently. He brought the baby up to his nose to smell the soft curl on her head, eyes shutting. “And if you give me my son, I’ll do the same to him.”

“Don’t worry, my precious darling,” Kol said in a mock whisper, his grin maniacal as he gazed down at his nephew. “When you grow, I will teach you all the very best ways to irritate your father. I’ve mastered them all, you see, and I have no protégée of my own.”

“Thank god,” Davina said, amused. “I wouldn’t know what to do with two of you.”

Elijah actively swung away from Freya trying to part the blankets and peer in at her niece, muttering about the cold air and her new lungs.

Elena sighed, reaching up to rub her tired eyes, not wanting to protest his behavior but also understanding the dangerous precedence he was setting. If the thought her daughter was growing up in some ivory tower, boy did he have another thing coming.

“You should be resting,” Klaus told her.

“You’re only human,” teased Kol.

“I’m also still on my new momma high,” she said with a smirk, looking under her lashes to see Klaus watching her. “And I’m not leaving my baby with another Mikealson, since I haven’t even gotten a hold of my daughter from the other one.”

“You will,” Elijah promised her, and continued to nurse the baby to his freshly shaven cheek. “In time. Perhaps when my heart stops telling me that some harm will come to her when she’s no longer in my arms.”

“I have sorry news for you, brother,” Klaus mused. “That feeling _never_ goes away.”

“Then I will _never_ put her down,” he murmured, sounding not at all put out. He rocked her softly when she began to wiggle and his eyes softened even more, his entire face slack with emotion as she took in a tiny yawn, followed by a bleating. Her little face screwed up, and she unleashed a minuscule fist, wagging it in the air as the crying started.

“She’s hungry,” Hayley advised.

“Looks like that’s my turn to hold her,” Elena said breezily. She sank gratefully down into the couch on in her living room and opened up the hinge of her shirt and bra, waiting to unveil her swollen breast until she at least had the baby near her.

Elijah moved with such grace it was like he was gliding rather than walking. He sat down close enough to Elena that their entire thighs were aligned, then twisted to pass her over.

He hooked his elbow on the back of the chair behind her, and leaned closer when Elena presented her nipple to the baby, who sort of mouthed around the area before latching. It didn’t hurt as much, and she breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the pull of a hungry mouth.

The doctors had been amazed, of course, by the miracle recovery, and all tests had been conclusive that she was whole and well enough to be sent home, but Elena had been worried that something was still about to go terribly wrong. 

She leaned into the circle of Elijah’s arm and he kissed the side of her head, still watching the baby feed. It wasn’t long before he was reaching for his son, which Klaus passed along with a knowing bow of his head.

“The difference in their size,” he said, unabashedly looking in on the tiny baby Elena was feeding. “He’s sure to be some kind of warrior, brother. Look at the sheer _size_ of him.”

“He’s the witch,” Kol supplied. “I don’t think the little one has it. Either his signature is truly too loud to notice hers, or she’s only human.”

“Lucky girl,” Elena whispered.

“Lucky?” Kol mused. “The boy has the ability of two witches and the mighty set of a lad born to swing a sword – you think she is the lucky one?”

“’Just a human’ means no lessons in magic from uncle Kol,” she said with a grin, directing it at him for a fleeting moment before returning her stare down to Aria. She was perfect, and Elena’s heart swelled with love. “Although I’m pretty sure she cast a spell on me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is undoubtedly one of my faves. No gonna lie. It gives me immense feels.  
> Hope you enjoyed!!!!!


	31. Babies

Elena understood on one level that people regularly raised babies without super speed, witchcraft or endless patience, but she wasn’t exactly sure _how._

* * *

Toby had legs up, arms banging on the padding of the change table, big eyes open wide on everything. Elijah was just dumping the used diaper in the bin to be washed later, hand on his son's round belly to keep him still.

"Ooh, make room," Elena said, cradling a squirmy Aria. "Speed round. Princess is leaking."

"We're out of clean ones," he said, nodding to the empty shelf where they kept the empty fabric diapers. "Can you get one for Toby while you're there?"

"Yeah sure," she replied, transferring the baby to one arm. She reached down to tug open the draw that had the rest of them in there, and grab one of the tiny fluffy diapers for their daughter. Nervously, she tucked her daughter into both arms with two diapers in one hand. "So I was thinking..."

Elijah kept his hand on Toby's belly, turning to look at her when _it happened_.

Elena didn't even realize why he'd rolled his eyes at her, for a long second, but the pitter of a spray hitting a silken tie caught her ear, and she dropped her gaze down to see a stream nailing him straight in the chest.

"Incredible, my son," he said, pursing his lips, letting the stream hit him square on. "That you couldn't have waited for the three seconds it took to cover."

Elena had to toss him a diaper, but she was laughing so hard she missed, and the sheer volume kicked off the baby in her arms crying.

Klaus stuck his head in, saw the spread of wetness on his brother's once pristine white shirt, and nearly pissed his own self laughing, actively grabbing the door to stay upright.

Whatever Elena was about to say drifted out of her head and into the fit of laughter, Klaus joining her on the couch to watch Elijah grimace and try and settle the unholy child who giggled mercilessly and pulled a foot into his mouth to chew on.

* * *

Hope's first word was 'Da'.

Toby's first word was 'Momma'.

Aria's first word was 'No'.

* * *

"Aria," Elijah said, not for the first time. He held up the spoon to her mouth. She _death stared_ him over it. An infant. With a death stare. "Come now, princess. It's delicious."

She lowered her head like a bull. Her bottom lip stuck out, and her eyebrows came down.

"You love apple," he reminded her, raising both brows at his child.

She said nothing, just glared.

Elena was cuddling Toby on her hip when she walked in on the scene. She was almost entirely sure that if Aria knew what it would mean, she'd have her little arms crossed. Swooping in and giving Elijah's temple a quick kiss seemed like a good idea to show her co-parenting support, right up until a handful of green went _splat_ on her head.

"MOMMA!" Toby cried out, hands curling in the mess on her face.

"No," Elijah said sternly. "We don't throw food at momma, that's not nice."

"NO," Aria said, and grabbed Elijah's fingers, turning her death stare up to her mother. 

Elena arched her brows.

"You want to play 'no one touches daddy but me'?" she said lightly. "Because I've gotta tell you, kiddo. I've played this a lot longer than you have. And I'm _good_ at it."

Elijah's mouth quirked into a smile. He pulled out the pocket square from his breast pocket with a flourish, passing it up to her with a raised brow.

"I don't recall you ever calling me daddy," he teased.

"We'll get around to it," Elena said lightly.

"Momma," Toby said, demanding her attention, clumsy fingers swiping through the mess on her cheek. "Momma? Momma. Momma?"

"Yeah, baby," she said, mouth quirked. "I'm okay. Aw. My sweet boy."

She wiped first the mess that had been collateral damage on his ruddy cheeks, earning a scowl and a halfhearted squirm, but softened when she kissed him. He tasted like baby and apples, so he got another kiss, then another, and another, until he was covered back in green goop from her own face. She had to wipe him down again, but it was _so_ worth it.

"Aria," Elijah said firmly. "That's wasn't nice to momma."

"NO." Aria pushed her bowl upside down and banged her fist on top of it.

"Oh, that's your side of the family," Elena said, shutting her eye to get pureed apple from under her lashes. "That's all Klaus."

"This is absolutely my side of the family. Except this is _Kol_ , not Klaus. Klaus would eat everything if it sat still long enough. It was Kol who was the picky eater. He used to throw things at me when I tried to feed him, too. Now. Aria," Elijah said, removing his fingers from her tight grasp. "That wasn't nice to momma."

"Even if it was a good shot," Elena mused, and set the handkerchief in the sink.

"No," Aria said again, her tiny face scrunched in real fury. "No, no no."

"Did I hear my name?" Kol said breezily.

Davina, under his arm, tinkled her fingers in a wave at Elena while she took Toby's hand to give the girl a wave back. There was no point in trying to make things as kind between the young woman and Elijah - they were never going to be friends after his part in one of her deaths. Elena didn't mind. She didn't think she and Klaus were ever gonna be besties and he'd only _threatened_ to kill her.

"You don't remember," Elijah assumed, righting the bowl on the highchair lid. "But you used to throw food at me when mother left me in your charge."

"No, you don't remember," Kol scoffed, lifting his arm around Davina to stroll over to his brother. "You couldn't make a meal to save yourself, and I was only ever honest with you. Come here my precious niece! I'll protect you _darling_." He swooped in and unbuckled her, hoisting her out of the chair and high above his head.

"Kol," Elijah scolded. "She needs to eat something."

"What is that? Ugh." He put her down by his face to inhale at her cheek. "Ugh! Is that what you're feeding her?"

"It's baby food," Elena said, lifting her chin for Toby to hide safely behind her face. He was sticky. He'd need a bath early. She gave his appley cheek another kiss, because he was her little cuddly baby and he was so cute her heart ached.

"It's abhorrent," he declared, a sentiment that Aria had already decided. Her hands were in the tiniest fists on her uncle's shoulders, but she allowed herself to be held by him.

Elena tried not to mind, because occasionally, she wasn't allowed the luxury. Aria only really tolerated her uncles at the best of times; Elijah was the clear out and out winner of her ultimate favorite person.

"Momma," Toby mumbled into her shoulder. "Mom-m-moma."

"You're not feeding that to the both of them are you?" Kol demanded. "A wonder you haven't starved to death, niece. Honestly. Come with me, now, I'll get you something much tastier."

"We have a diet plan," Elijah intoned.

"And I'm going to spoil her because I am her favorite uncle and it is my purpose." Kol lifted his eyebrows at Toby, who hid once more behind Elena's jaw. "Dear nephew is more than welcome to come along if he can unearth himself from his mother long enough."

“Momma,” Toby said, and turned his face from his uncle.

“Well that settles that,” Kol said brightly. “I’ll be back later. Girl child will be fed. Come on, my love, let’s go play parents for a day.”

Davina rolled her eyes and put herself under his free arm, smiling softly at Aria, who touched the side of the woman’s face with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t be jealous!” Kol teased her as he waltzed out. “You’re the _apple_ of my very eye, darling.”

“No,” she Aria, but sounded like she might mean the opposite.

* * *

“Are you as unready as I am?” Elena asked her lover, casting a shy look at him from under her lashes.

“I’m not nervous, but I don’t like it,” Elijah said firmly, flicking the onesie into a neat fold. He stacked it on the small pile of pale blue clothes that the twins shared. “We don’t have to move them out just now, we can just wait another month or two.”

“Or we can stick to the amendment we made to say they get their own room when they turn one.” She took his wrist to get his attention – he looked first to the babies watching them from behind the mesh of their crib, then to her.

“If you want to wait a little,” he said. He folded a pair of over-alls with a bright yellow duck on the pocket, and turned back to put the pile in the white standing drawers meant for all their baby things. “I will always wait. I want them in here. Damn the books. They don’t know my babies.”

“And after six months comes and goes and we’re still happy to share?” she prompted. “Why not just wait until they turn two?”

“Well now you’ve suggested it-” he said.

“No,” she said, trying to suppress a smile. “Elijah. I love that you love our babies, but they are growing up, and they’re going to start needing space. It’s the end of the hall, not the end of the world.”

He shut the drawer with a snap, turning to face her with a hand slid into his pocket.

“You said ‘unready’,” he pointed out. “I’m following your lead. I want them here with me. If that means waiting until they turn two, then I’ll wait. But if you think it best to remove my children, by all means. Take them away.“

“Oh my god, don’t say it like that.”

Toby was already nearing something like co-dependence with her, and while Aria was more than happy to play with her brother and learn her own way, Elijah hovered. Knowing how Klaus could be with his family made Elena’s skin crawl to think of Elijah behaving the same way.

“I’d prefer if we didn’t have this conversation after a long day,” he told her, forcing his voice to be calm.

“We have twins,” she told him. “They’re always long days.”

“So then we shall speak more on this tomorrow,” he decided, and shed his jacket. He undressed efficiently down to his boxers and went to the babies. He bent and kissed them both, murmuring in Old Norse by their tiny ears.

Aria tried to offer him her pacifier as if she sensed his distress.

“You keep it, my little princess,” he said fondly, and stroked her perfect silken hair, left loose to sleep in. Neither of them had been given a haircut and they did look like twins, but when her hair was out of her face, Aria’s bones were shaped a little more like Elena’s. Toby was broader and bigger by several inches in height, width, and features.

“No,” the baby said, and insistently held the sucker between them, dark eyes fixed on his. “No, no.”

“What’s this, hm? What’s this bump?” He tenderly traced the tiniest of blemishes on her soft brow, and she stomped a foot at him, making nonsense baby noises.

“She dropped a toy on her head,” Elena supplied. “Honestly it was blue this afternoon. Did you feed her blood?"

"She had some in her bottle," Elijah mentioned. "Oh, my sweet daughter. Your poor face."

"It’s healed really well,” Elena prodded. "It could probably be sped along a little bit..."

Elijah gave her a rare grin over his shoulder, and Elena sensed that she had read his mind. She snickered and packed away the bulk of the clothes, idly watching the father with their princess.

“It’s not fast enough, is it, my girl?” Elijah cooed, and let his eyes bleed black, pricking the tip of his forefinger with an elongated fang to present it to Aria’s waiting mouth. She grabbed his finger and steered it to her lips to slobber all over it, sucking the blood out greedily. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

Toby, looking between them, blinked long dark lashes and made a dissatisfied noise behind the nipple in his mouth. He rolled and pushed himself up, going to the edge of the crib to stare mournfully at Elena beyond it.

"Momma?" Which sounded an awful lot like: ' _Can I come cuddle with you?_ '

"No," Elena said. "Sleep now."

"Oh, go on," Elijah scolded softly, watching Aria swallow his blood without spilling a drop. "He's allowed a cuddle from his mother."

“How did I end up the tough guy?” Elena mentioned, only slightly amused. “No, baby, it’s sleep time. Daddy’s coming away from your bed now.”

“Momma?” Toby said, and reached out to her.

“No,” Elena repeated, still firm. “No. Tonight is the last night you two are staying in here, and you’re staying in _your_ bed. Because what Daddy isn’t thinking of is mixed signals. Lay back down, Toby.”

Toby looked balefully over to Elijah, huge brown eyes batting at him as his vampire features faded.

“Come give your father a cuddle,” Elijah mentioned, offering his free hand to the son. "My poor son. I will love you, sweet boy. Come."

Toby crawled over to lazily butt his head into Aria’s shoulder. She, unbalanced in her sitting, went like a little roly poly, the interior walls so soft Elijah watched her sink half an inch into the covers and begin to blink heavy lashes.

He stroked the top of Toby’s head, and fixed the pacifier between his daughter’s lips, smiling warmly when she took his thumb in her chubby fist to keep him near, a smear of blood on her chin.

Toby gnawed at his hand in a similar fashion, and Elijah bent to press a kiss to his soft hair, and lay his cheek to the little boy’s.

“My perfect son,” he murmured. “My precious prince.”

“Momma,” Toby said.

“Momma wants to send you away,” he went on, only half teasing. “Send you all the way down the hall from me. So I cannot hear the beating of your heart, and make sure you breathe all through the night.”

Elena sighed.

“That is not what this is about,” she reminded him. “And you ply them with so much blood I doubt they’ll ever get sick at this rate. Say goodnight to the babies and come to bed.”

“Are you mom-voicing me, my love?” Elijah mused, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“That depends,” she drawled. “Is it working?”

He exhaled a laugh, and pressed a kiss to Toby’s head, before wrapping an arm around him to give the toddler a quick squeeze, laying him down and pulling a blanket up over him.

Aria staunchly refused to let go of his thumb, and scowled at him when he made to pull away. Which was all well and good, because after the first pathetic attempt to leave, he stayed where his daughter bid.

They were as bad as each other, honestly.

Elena huffed as she crawled into bed and dimmed the lights, laying her head on the pillow. Just as she began to doze, she felt him climb in beside her, and knew by the shadow on his chest that he was not alone.

“Put her back,” she told him softly.

“She won’t let go,” was his weak defense.

“No,” suggested Aria.

“Yes,” Elena told her, reaching out in the dark to rub her little shoulder. She soothed their child half to sleep, then rolled over to press a kiss to her chubby arm. “Say ‘night night daddy’.”

“No.”

“Say ‘I love you, daddy’.”

“No, no, no.”

“Say ‘I’m a big girl and I don’t need to sleep on top of you anymore’,” said Elena. “Say ‘I have good lungs now. I’m a big girl.’ Say 'no more sleep overs, I'm tough, daddy'.”

“Da,” agreed Aria.

Elijah caught his breath.

“Da?” he repeated, touching her face with reverent fingertips.

“No, no, no,” said Aria, around her sucker. She pulled it from her mouth, offering it out. “Dada.”

“Oh my god,” Elena said. “You couldn’t have picked a worse time.”

“Is that for me?” he said in wonder. “Am I your da, Aria?”

“No,” she said, followed by: “Da. Da. Dada.”

“Am I your dada, princess?”

“Dada.”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “That’s my clever girl. I love you so much.”

“You're spoiling her,” Elena grumbled as she cuddled up to his side. "This was _not_ the plan. We had a plan. We weren't gonna spoil the babies." She decided to go easy on him, because trying to pry the girl out of his arms when she was clearly learning how to say his name was not a kind thing to do.

“No,” said Aria.

“You should be in bed,” Elena scolded. “With your brother.”

“No, no. Dada.”

“I’m Dada,” Elijah said, absolutely beaming in the dark.

“Yes, I got that,” Elena said dryly. “You eventually have to let her sleep in the bed, Elijah. She has to go to her own room tomorrow.”

“Momma?” Toby called.

“Go to sleep.”

“Momma?” Toby said again, more insistently. “Momma? Momma. Momma?”

“No,” Elena said.

“No!” Aria echoed.

“Go get him,” Elijah said silkily. “Go on. We can share tonight. It’s only one night, my love. It won’t hurt.”

And like, what exactly could Elena say to that? She wanted to cuddle the babies all the live long day. Of course she did. They were fucking adorable and soft and they smelled so good.

She only needed one more sad: “Momma?” from the crib to heave herself up and go collect her son, giving him many quick kisses on his cherubic round face. She arranged him on her side (he was too big to lay on her chest, and had been for months,) and cuddled up behind him, reaching across to find Elijah’s arm.

“You’re the worst,” she told him with a solid poke.

“No,” said Aria.

* * *

Elena took a photo of the four of them in the bed. The two little ones asleep, and Elijah with one eye cracked open, a hint of a smirk on his face. She sent it to the Mikealson group chat:

‘ _We have to let the children develop their sleep patterns independent of us, Elena. The books all say they should be moved to their own bed, Elena. We can move them into their own room when they turn one, Elena. I’ll be fine, Elena.’_

Kol sent back several crying laughing faces.

Freya sent: ‘U R ALL LITERALLY SO CUTE LOL’

Klaus sent back: ‘ _He’s such a pushover. I’ll wallop him on your behalf if you like, love. Might knock some sense into him_.’

Hayley sent: ‘ _Where is Hope right now, Klaus?_ ’

Klaus sent back a middle finger.

Davina sent: ‘ _Kol sleeps like Toby! Butt up, face down!!_ ’


	32. Bluff

The next morning Elena called Freya to help her move all the things, because _someone_ was ‘busy in the office looking after the kids’ (read: sulking).

They chatted while they worked, and Elena was barely finished hanging up the scrying string Kol had given him above Toby’s bed when she heard a curious noise.

It was her son, standing with only his nappy and grippy socks on, holding the scrying crystal meant for Aria in his fist. He looked at her with big eyes, swaying in the unsteady way he sometimes did with his newfound walking ability, and then back to the crystal.

“Ah, that’s got sharp bits,” Elena said, rushing to bend and pry it out of his fingers.

“Momma,” he said, and reached for it.

She let him inspect it, little brow drawn in thought. The tips of his fingers touched the bird and he pinched it, then lifted the heavy crystal up to his eye level. There was something transfixed in his gaze – unsettling, for a little one. He looked beyond the jewel to his mother and opened and shut his mouth like he was trying to find words.

“Momma,” he said.

“He’s channeling magic,” Freya mentioned.

“What does that mean?” Elena said, worried.

“He’s becoming open to magic,” Freya said softly. She knelt by him, unblinking at her nephew. “That-… He’s… exploring. He’s flexing his magical ability.”

“Is it going to hurt him?”

“No,” Freya murmured. “But that he’s using a tool is not normal, I think. I’ll reach out to my friends in the cauldron.”

“Why would it be normal?” Elena said, and gently took away the scrying tool from his hands. She looked over at their beds, and decided it would be nothing to swap the children. She would put him under the string with the bird on it, and Aria under the string with the beetle.

Why that felt important was beyond her. She just knew it was right.

* * *

Elena sat with her head back on the couch, rubbing her eyes.

"Today I learned that there is no one sneakier on this earth than _your_ four year old daughter," she announced.

"Oh," Elijah said. "She must be in trouble. She's only ever my daughter when she's in trouble."

"She put lipstick on her brother." She cracked open an eye to look at him. "And blamed the cat."

Elijah blinked once, processing.

"We... don't have a cat."

"No. No, we don't have a cat."

"Well," he said lightly. "I suppose it's healthy for him to explore different gender roles. Did you get photos?"

"Obviously."

"Please send them to me.” He set his eyes back on the tablet in his hand, and found the very ghost of a smile flirting on his mouth.

Sneaky indeed. His cheeky baby. She’d inherited it from his side of the genetic pool, undoubtedly, and it was endearing to a fault. Harmless pranks were the way of things for his childhood, and it looked like the tradition would continue.

Toby was not as ill-mannered. He had Elena’s infinite forgiveness, forever patience and calm, and didn’t know the meaning of the word lie.

Well, ‘fib’. When the babies did it, they were ‘fibs’.

“Stop smiling,” Elena warned with her own smile, draping over his shoulder to press a kiss on his cheek. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” he mused, lifted a forefinger and thumb to show her how close to funny it was. He pinched the end of her nose and opened his arms when she rolled bonelessly over the top of the couch to land squarely in his lap, looking up at him from the cradle of his embrace.

“You broke me,” she teased. “That was the off button.”

“Good thing I know where the on button is,” he purred, and dropped a kiss on her mouth. He pulled her up, tasting the mint of her toothpaste, and then sucked a path down to her throat. He really would’ve been quite content to take her to bed (there was a chance they wouldn’t make it to the bed, truth be told,) when his sensitive hearing picked up tiny voices.

“I dun think so…”

“It’s okay,” said the cheeky daughter. “They won’t know if you do the magic hand thing…”

“We’re not s’posed t’ eat after dessert, Ari,” whispered the loyal son.

“It’s just snacks!” she cried, then hushed herself.

"We already brushed our teef though..."

“C’mon Tobes, please? Pleeeeease?”

“Awh, I dunno…”

Elijah lifted his head, curious to hear this conversation. Elena, aware of his waning attention, pulled on his tie.

“What are they doing?”

“Nothing as yet,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “But that would be my daughter… convincing your son… to magic snacks into their bedroom.”

She checked the time on his watch, seeing as her own more often than not ended up catching her hair. She wore a deceptively smug face, the ‘I told you so’ written in the arch of her brow.

“Are you going to go deal with it? Because I just got here, and I’m a tiny human who needs sleep.”

“I’ll deal with it,” he promised her, and kissed her head, setting aside the tablet to hoist her up in his arms, depositing her gently on the bed. He lingered for a moment, bending over to kiss her eyes and mouth, before going quietly to their children’s shared room. They were facing each other on the low single beds, communicating in a low volume.

He propped his arm to the door frame and waited for recognition.

“C’mon Tobes! I’m hungry,” whined his daughter, looking small and pitiful on the bed.

“Yeah but that’s cuz you didn’t eat all your dinner,” his son said slowly. He rubbed tired eyes. “I’m not hungry.”

“But you’re snacky.”

“Yeah, but…”

“You know I don’t like things from cans,” she said grumpily.

“It wasn’t from a can,” Elijah said mildly, and saw the both of them flinch. He had to pay credit to his kids – neither pretended to be asleep anymore. Now they just looked cute and innocent and guilty. (Which was infinitely more effective.)

“Sorry daddy,” Toby said quickly.

“What for?” he wondered.

“For bein’ awake late,” he said. “We’re goin’ to sleep now.”

“I’m not,” said the hellish girl child, sitting up in her bed. She fixed him with one of her patented stubborn looks – he knew it was Rebekah’s genetic hand-me-down, but he’d never tell Elena that, because she was convinced it belonged to herself. “I’m too hungry for sleeping.”

“Your uncle Kol has put ideas in your head,” he accused lightly. “That you can pull this nonsense and get away with what you like. I’m not having it under my roof, Aria. You should’ve eaten your dinner when there was dinner to eat.”

“I don’t _like_ food from cans,” she said again, fearless under his arched brow.

The brow had made entire armies bend their knees – it had seen kingdoms fall. The merest indication of it being raised had made more than a handful of people cry. But to curb his daughter’s attitude? No dice.

“Again, there was no food from cans, precisely for this exact reason. Everything was fresh.”

“So what can I eat now?” she said.

“That would depend on what you were asking your brother to conjure,” he said patiently.

She had the gall to look at least a little bit guilty.

“Oh she wasn’t,” Toby said. “She uh, daddy she wasn’t. It was – I was just-“

“Hush, while you remain out of trouble,” he advised his son, who pulled the covers up to his chin and fell quiet.

“I’m just hungry,” his small daughter said tearfully, and turned on the water works. So tiny. His heart broke to see the first spill of what were undoubtedly crocodile tears. “I’m _so hungry_ and you don’t even _care_.”

“Aria, stop the tears,” he said. When she didn’t heed the warning, he firmed his tone. “Do not make me count to three.”

She dialed down the wailing to a sniffle, her big dark eyes looking sorrowful in her little face. He ached to go to her and cuddle away that horrible, petulant look in her eye. But he’d had a hand in raising petulant babies into willful teenagers, and knew better than to fall for it.

“What?” she grumped at him.

He raised both eyebrows at her.

“S’okay, uh, uh daddy if you don’t wanna make anything I can?” Toby said, pulling the covers away from his mouth. “I can do cereal if you don’t want to? Or I can make an apple magic up? Apple's good for you.”

“No,” he said slowly. “You know magic is only allowed when Auntie Freya or Uncle Kol is here to supervise. That your sister tried to guilt you into conjuring snacks at this hour was not very kind of her. You’re in no trouble, Toby. Don’t get into it now.”

“But-“ he started.

“No buts,” Elijah said firmly. He cast his gaze between the children, then narrowed his eyes. “I think it’s nearly time for separate bedrooms.”

“What?!” Aria said loudly. “No.”

“Aw, but dad,” Toby said, and sat up. “I wasn’t gonna-“

“If you were in separate bedrooms things like this wouldn’t happen,” he reasoned with them. Fat chance of having them separated. For all their bickering, they lived in each other’s pockets, and had only just learned that they didn’t need to poop sitting side by side.

“ _No_ ,” Aria said. 

“Tomorrow,” he said, mock thoughtfully. “I’ll move the bed. Who wants this room?”

“I don’t want this room if Ari isn’t in it,” Toby said desperately. “Dad, come on. We weren’t _really_ gonna have late snacks. Don’t make our bedrooms different.”

Elijah pretended to consider it. While he did so, Aria’s stomach gave an awful rumble, a truly hungry gurgle. He knew in his very heart that she had not eaten well that night, difficult for difficult’s sake, sure that the food tasted like it had metal in it.

But she had stuck to her guns, at least. She was so bold. God, her tiny face, so determined in the dark – he loved that about her. And his son, who was gazing at him with his lower lip stuck out, every inch a sulking Mikealson.

“You can’t move our rooms,” Tobias said soulfully.

“Even if you do,” Aria said with her chin tilted at him in challenge. “We’re just gonna sneak around anyway.”

He firmed his mouth to try and stave off the smile. He loved to see them united, even in their own way. Toby saw the shift in him first, and settled a little, sinking against his mattress.

“I’m not hungry, hungry,” he said in a whisper. “But can I have a snack too?”

“Can we have apples?” Ari suggested, clearly unphased by his broody look. “Maybe some ice-cream?”

“Ice cream is pushing it,” he warned her.

“But apples isn’t?” she said, and wagged her eyebrows at him.

He cracked a smile, then shut his eyes in defeat. Both of them were giggling now, and he swore in his native tongue.

 _“They sense weakness like blood in the water_ ,” he scolded himself. “ _And I make a slave of myself when they’re so fucking cute.”_

The strangest thing was when the twins did things in sync. Both of them, at his words, turned to look at the same point in the room; the corner behind the door he stood in.

Toby was frowning a little and shifted with unease in his blankets, but Ari merely shrugged and then looked at him.

Feeling the prickle of eyes on his spine, Elijah checked behind the door and saw nothing. Perhaps a cool breeze touched his cheek, but there was only the two baseball bats stacked in the corner.

“What are you two looking at?” he murmured, only to see them share a look and communicate something without words.

They climbed out of their beds – Ari ran to him and launched, expecting rightly that he would catch her – while Tobias was slower in his approach. He took Elijah’s free hand and frowned at the space behind the door, his lingering stare at the plain wall high above his own eye line.

“What’s wrong?” Elijah said, squeezing his hand.

“Nothing,” Ari said quickly. She gave a little kick of her legs. “Nothing’s wrong. Can we snack now? Can I have peanut butter?”

He ignored her, watching his son, who was mesmerized by the wall. Feeling his father’s weighty stare, Toby snapped out of it, hurrying out of the room to pull Elijah along behind him.

“Tomorrow, if you don’t eat your dinner, princess,” he warned his daughter. “I _will_ move you into a separate bedroom.”

“Bluff,” she said with assurance, nodding as though the matter was dealt with.

Elijah wondered where she’d learned that word from, that she used it so correctly in this particular context.


	33. The Kids Are Alright

When Elijah pushed open the office door, he became aware of two things.

1)Aria had one hundred percent perfected a collective blend of her Uncle Klaus’ smug and arrogant looks

2) His son was about thirty seconds away from a full tilt magical meltdown.

The idiot principal, a human woman, was trying to be stern when she looked up at him. Elijah had done deals with many people in his lengthy lifetime, and a mere handful had embodied what this fickle, cheaply dressed little thing was trying out on him.

“Mr. Mikealson, I presume?” she said curtly.

_And_ she was rude? That was the last time he let Elena choose the school.

Elijah shut the door behind him.

“Considering the new scientific institute I’m paying for being actively built as we speak,” he said coolly. “I should rather hope you presume to recognize me. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call, Ms. Fally?”

She bristled, and heat began to burst in her cheeks.

“Take a seat, Mr. Mikealson.”

“I’d rather stand,” he drawled, just to be difficult.

Aria tittered under her breath, but hastened to pass it off as a cough under his withering look.

Tobias was still. So still.

Elijah went and put a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension broiling just under the surface.

The headmistress began to outline some cock-and-bull lead in about acceptable behavior and violence in the students, and repercussions and following through on previously given warnings. Elijah watched her without blinking, then looked to Tobias, who was tapping his shoe on the floor.

“What did you do?” he asked the boy, cutting the woman short.

“He didn’t do anything,” Aria said quickly. “He was coming in to pull me out.”

“What did _you_ do?” he amended.

“I punched Elvis Fitzroy right in his balls,” she said clearly. She uncrossed her arms, and he saw her little hands marred with evidence of a brawl, but moreover the backs of her legs, and arms, splattered with mud. When she turned to face him fully, he narrowed his eyes at the smear of mud up the side of her face, in her hair. 

“This isn’t anything to be proud of, Miss Mikealson.“

“Sure it is. He was being a -”

"Language," Elijah said firmly.

"He's still a bloody moron no matter what words I use, Dad," she announced.

_I must stop letting Klaus baby sit_ , crossed Elijah's mind.

The little girl brushed her hair back and Elijah’s free hand went to his mouth. Under a layer of drying dirt, there was a lump. A lump the size of a grape, squarely in the middle of her eyebrow. She winced to touch it, and then noticed his expression.

“Oh, is it bad?”

“It’s not good,” Toby supplied.

“Mike said it wasn’t so bad.”

“Mike just likes fights,” Toby said softly, and put his hands up over his ears, looking strictly at his knees. “Dad, I wanna go home.”

Ms. Fally scoffed.

“You should’ve thought about that,” she started, making the boy flinch. “Before you-“

“ _Silence_ ,” Elijah said, letting his eyes bleed black. He didn’t even compel the woman. He just put the fear of hell in her. When he looked back to Aria, he saw her smug expression changed into a cringe before she squared up at him once more, feigning indifference. His forefinger was patted in a consoling way by his son. “What happened, Aria?”

“Elvis cried and called his friends while I was going to get a teacher. There were three of them,” she went on casually. “I was doing okay, dad, but then someone threw a rock.” She pointed to the lump on her brow.

“When I got there,” Toby added quietly. “They were kicking her pretty bad.”

"All three?" Elijah confirmed.

“Yeah, but then they threw fists at Toby,” Aria said. She shrugged. “And I lost my temper. Mike said I did okay.”

“Who is Mike?” he said on a breath. He took the hand on Tobias’ shoulder and put a crooked finger under his chin to turn him, inspect that he too wasn’t damaged. There wasn’t so much a mark on him. He held onto Elijah’s sleeve.

“I want to go home, please,” he said, and batted huge brown eyes up at him.

“Mike’s a friend,” Aria piped up.

Elijah frowned at them both. Something wasn’t adding up. Aria didn’t seem as perturbed as she should, while Toby seemed far more unsettled. Although his son was possibly far too old to be hugged in front of people, Elijah took the risk of rejection and knelt, opening his arms to him.

Tobias hid under his chin and shook, the sparks of magic hovering just under his skin.

Elijah cupped the back of his head and stood, bringing the boy with him, up onto his waist. He peered over his shoulder at his sheepish daughter, still trying to maintain that she wasn’t affected by what had happened. Then he turned to the principal, still holding his shivering son.

“You,” he warned, narrowing his eyes at her. The woman seemed to realize she was in danger and scrambled to get out of her chair, running for the door in heels she couldn’t properly walk in. He cut her off. “You neglectful, hateful, idiotic little _worm_.”

She tried to scream. His free hand wrapped around her throat.

“Dad,” Aria protested.

“I should kill you,” he told her darkly. “For making my little girl sit in filth, with her damaged face untended. How _dare_ you. How dare you present my child to me in such a state?”

She choked.

“ _Dad_!” Aria said, more shrilly. She bounded out of her chair and grabbed the crook of his arm to try and break the hold, but he didn’t so much as pretend to bend the limb.

Toby started to sob, big heaving breaths, tightening his arms around Elijah’s shoulders like he was going to float away without the grounding, keeping his face away from the display.

“You spoke to my son abhorrently,” he went on, upper lip lifting in a snarl to reveal sharpened teeth. “And you made him feel badly for something he didn’t do.”

“Dad, daddy- stop it, you’re hurting her-!” Aria said, pulling with all her might down on his arm.

He growled shortly, but the child didn’t let go. In fact, she pulled harder.

“Daddy stop it,” Toby wept, trembling. “Stop it.”

Elijah shook the woman a little and then let her drop to the floor. He boosted Toby – who was now bawling, heart-wrenching, other worldly sobs, the lights flickering on and off over his head – and took Aria by the hand.

“You will speak of this to no one,” he said crisply. “You will treat my babies, and the rest of the students in your care with respect. Do I make myself clear?”

The woman, wheezing, nodded, eyes full of tears and open wide.

He kicked the door open in lieu of not wanting to let either child go, and marched them all the way out to the car. He dropped Aria’s hand for a second to yank open the back door and that was when she started.

“YOU COULD’VE KILLED MY PRINCIPAL!” she shrieked. “I WAS _HANDLING_ IT!”

“Get in the car,” he said flatly, depositing Toby in the seat. He cupped his face and bent in to kiss his temple. “You’re alright, son. Breathe.”

“I wanna go hoo-oo-ome,” he moaned.

“We’re going,” he promised, taking his tiny, sweaty hands and kissing each palm. “We’re going, my boy. I’m taking you home right now. Aria. Car. _Now_.”

“NO!” she shouted, and kicked the back wheel with a noise of exertion.

Elijah simply picked her up under his arm, ignoring the flailing, and shut Toby’s door, rounding the back of the Bentley to pull open her side and put her in, kicking at him. It earned a raised eyebrow.

She glowered.

“I’m not speaking to you while you’re in this mood,” he told her simply, clicking in her seat belt. She smashed her fist into the button and undid it. “Aria. _Leave_ it.”

He pulled the belt down and clicked it back in. She immediately undid it.

Elijah found himself tested. He stopped, stood, running a hand over his face. He turned out into the lot and just took a second to compose himself, before he did something stupid, like compel his child to behave.

While his back was turned, however, Aria got out of the car and started running.

_She’s her mother_ , floated through his head, with an awful pang of fear. _She runs. God help me._

He flashed to stand in front of her so quickly she ran head-first into him and bounced off with an ‘oomph!’

He caught her before she fell, and she bared her teeth at him, trying to pry off his hand. He made sure he was not doing her harm, but it was firm. He started to stride back to the car with her two heels dug in, dragging lines through the crushed stone the entire way.

“Aria,” he said firmly, and turned her to face him. “You are on a road. Stop being silly.”

She swung a fist at his eye.

He batted it away before it could land, but the mere thought of his tiny daughter attempting to punch him in the face hurt more deeply than if she’d struck him at all.

“LEMME GO!” she screamed. “LET ME GO RIGHT NOW.”

“Aria,” he said, forcing his volume to remain unchanged. He was _not_ his father. He was not his father, and he would not meet adversity with violence. He didn’t know what had truly upset the both of them, but he knew that whatever had transpired had not been what he was told. “Aria. Look at me, please.”

She shoved his shoulder, then his face – she threw her weight down and started to kick at his shins. He shut his eyes. Prayed for strength. How long had it been since he had asked the old gods for strength? He couldn't name all of them any more.

Feeling passingly capable, he bent and scooped her up.

“Aria, I'm not going to fight you when we are in the middle of a road,” he said clearly.

"IT"S A CAR PARK!"

“It's dangerous," he insisted. "So you need to-“

“I HATE YOU,” she vowed, red-faced and still struggling. “I _HATE_ YOU! LET ME GO!”

It stung to hear it. He knew it wasn’t true. But it hurt all the same.

He swallowed.

He was not his father. _He wasn’t_. She was just throwing a tantrum – it wasn’t how she really felt. He was not his father. He wouldn’t be feared and hated by his children. He wouldn’t.

“Alright,” he said, and let the child go, who sank dramatically to his feet and threw a punch at his leg. He side stepped the next one, and very calmly climbed into her backseat, shutting the door to the vicious girl.

He breathed out, shutting his eyes.

Aria was raging, vengeance incarnate, pummeling the door with her fists and little shoes. It wasn’t locked to her but she didn’t try and open it. She shouted again that she _hated him_ , and punched the door with enough force that the car rocked.

“Toby,” he said, voice strained. “Would you care to give your father a hug?”

Toby unclipped his seat belt and climbed up onto his lap, burrowing into his shirt with both arms. He was still crying, and Elijah wasn’t exactly sure why. He kissed the top of his head and heard another angry _I HATE YOU_ through the window. But at least the kicking had stopped.

He only had to wait another half a minute, maybe less. Then Aria pulled the handle and heaved in a big breath.

“I SAID I HATE YOU.”

“I heard you,” he said coolly. He kissed Toby’s head.

Aria screwed up her nose, searching for words.

Elijah didn’t look at her.

“YOU CAN’T,” she shouted into the car. “GO AROUND NEARLY KILLING PEOPLE!”

“I’m not talking to you when you’re shouting at me,” he told her evenly. 

She boiled. He could tell she was seething with righteous fury, but he was adamant that it wasn’t completely him that was the problem. While she was heightened, he wouldn’t test her to ask. So he cuddled Toby and waited it out.

She climbed into the seat a minute later and yanked the belt, which caught, and did not budge. She kicked the back of the passenger seat and pulled and pulled until he reached over and made the mechanism release, drawing it out so she was buckled in. Then he kissed Toby’s salty cheek and climbed out of the car, passing him down a pocket square to blow his nose on while he was clicked in safely.

Child lock on, he drove home to the soundtrack of sniffling and occasional kicking.

* * *

“You’re still cross,” he noted, standing in the doorway to the toy room. He watched Aria go stiff from where she’d been muttering to herself, a pencil in her hand going still. The hike of her shoulders around her ears let him know she was still in a mode to fight. So he stepped aside. “Your uncle is here to speak with you.”

She whipped her head around, still crusted with mud and the bruise marring her elvish face gone a horrible blue. She was wide eyed, almost guilty, to look at Klaus as he strolled in.

“My favorite little hellion,” Klaus teased. “How are you?”

She turned back to her drawing, and started to scribble over it with the pencil like she was actively trying to start a fire.

She muttered: “You have to go. I can’t concentrate.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Klaus said easily. “I don’t scare as easy as your father does. Go on then. Let me have it. What’s upset you, hm?”

The little girl said nothing, but her scribbling increased in fervor.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Elijah mentioned, and shut the door behind him.

He met Elena, who was sitting with Toby dozing with his head on her lap, her fingers twirling through the cowlick at the front of his head. She motioned with her finger for him to be quiet, and so he did so, silently padding over to press a kiss to her mouth and sitting beside her, an arm over her shoulder.

She leaned her head to his chest.

“She doesn’t hate you,” she murmured.

He didn’t reply. Not even Klaus had said he’d hated him, not once in a thousand years, and he had done horrible things to his brother. He had guessed that maybe his daughter would be a handful when she started to transition into a young woman – not at her early years of education. He cocked his head and listened to the furious scribbling, and the silence between uncle and niece.

“I punched a boy in his balls,” Aria said flatly.

“Why?”

“Because he deserved it.”

“And then?”

“And then his friends started to beat me up.”

“And then?”

“You already know,” she accused. “I tried to punch dad. Are you happy now?”

“Why won’t you let your mother look at your head?” he mused.

“What?”

“Your head. You’ve a spectacular lump.”

“It’s fine,” she scoffed. There was a pause. “I’m tough, uncle Klaus. I don’t need it.”

“Ice would help,” he said evenly. “Vampire blood would heal it. We can mix it into juice. You won’t even taste it.”

“Does dad know you’re tellin’ me that?”

“Not a bloody chance he isn’t listening,” he teased. “So he does now.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time.

“They threw a rock at me,” she said. “It hurt.”

“A wonder you didn’t get concussed.”

“I feel fine.” The scribbling stopped. “Uncle Klaus, I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I did when they tried to hit Tobes but then with dad… I didn’t mean it.”

“We usually don’t mean it. That’s where the loss of control is, sweetheart.”

“Dad never loses _his_ temper.”

“What do you call half strangling your headmistress?” was the cool reply. “Just because he doesn’t _yell_ doesn’t mean he doesn’t misstep. He isn’t as perfect as he’d have you believe, you know.”

“He’s perfect to me,” she acknowledged quietly. Then: “I’m not good like he is.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not good,” she said softly. “I’m… I’m not a princess like he says I am. But I don’t want to be. Momma is so… nice, all the time, and I don’t know how she does it. She’s his princess. Not me.”

Klaus sighed.

“Aria, love-“

“No, no I’m not. I don’t wanna be. I wanna be tough.”

“There’s no reason you can’t be precious and tough. No reason at all. But what we don’t do is hit each other.”

“ _You_ killed him,” she said pointedly.

“And how did you know that?”

“I read it in a journal,” she said with conviction. “You left a dagger in his chest for like thirty years. I would never do that to _my_ brother.”

“That was a long time ago,” Klaus amended.

“So that makes it okay?” she challenged.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

“Did you ever apologize?”

“No, I did not.”

“At least I’m gonna say sorry,” she said simply. “When I’m not cross. I’ll say sorry and I’ll mean it.”

“Why are you cross?” he wondered. “Is it because he hurt your teacher?”

“No,” she said boldly.

“So what is it, then?”

“Because I’m angry!”

“Yes, love, but why?”

“ _Because_!” her voice went up in volume.

Elijah shifted on the couch. Eased himself out from Elena’s embrace, getting to his feet.

“Not going well?” she murmured.

“I’m waiting,” he murmured, and cocked his head to listen.

“What happened, that made you so much angrier?” Klaus pressed. “What made you angry enough to try and hurt your father, who loves you more than life itself?”

“I DON’T _KNOW_ ,” she shouted, and there was a crash. “MAYBE BECAUSE MIKE SAID TOBY SHOULDA BEEN PUNCHED HARDER! I _HATE_ HIM!”

“Ignore Mike,” Klaus drawled, unphased by the yelling. Which was precisely why he had been sent in. “You know your brother deserves no such thing. He’s sitting with your mother and father now, half asleep. He’s alright. Not so much as a mark on him.”

“THAT’S BECAUSE I PUNCHED ELVIS IN HIS STUPID FACE FROM HITTING HIM IN THE FIRST PLACE!” she went on loudly. “NO ONE GETS TO HIT MY BROTHER! _NO ONE_ GETS TO HURT HIM! AND MIKE SAID-!“

“This Mike sounds like an awful friend,” Klaus said mildly.

“HE’S NOT MY FRIEND ANYMORE,” she declared. “I NEVER WANT TO SEE HIM AGAIN.”

“Good,” Klaus said. “Would you like a blood and juice now?”

Aria stopped. Elijah could hear her heart thrashing in her justified rage, but he was also confused. There had been no interaction with anyone from the moment he arrived to when her tantrum had begun, and yet this Mike character had been in her ear? And Toby’s mood had gone so sour, from no interaction other than his own…?

Perhaps it had taken a while for them to process something that had been said earlier.

He still adored how protective she was of her brother, despite the clear difference in size between them. And Toby was not geared for fisticuffs, his tender heart too full of empathy to truly ever hurt anyone.

“Fine,” Aria said sulkily, and there was a thud, a dramatic sigh. “I’m starving anyway.”

* * *

“Hey,” Elena said, voice husky. They were just about to drift into sleep, and she was turned away from him with the blanket pulled over her shoulder.

“Hm?” He reached out and stroked the top of her spine, tracing the bones with his fingertips.

“So, I think we should talk…” she said slowly.

“Uh oh,” he murmured, and rolled over, tucking himself around her. He conformed to her shape, sliding his arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Alright. I’m prepared. Talk.”

“It’s not bad,” she said, but sounded guilty. “I just-… You know what? Never mind.”

“Never mind?” he repeated.

“We’ve had a big day,” she said, linking their fingers on her waist. “It can wait. It’s not important.”

He felt her heart, just under his hand, give a stray flop. A lie.

“Tell me what’s not important,” he urged.

“No, it’s okay; I kind of… I think I still need time to consider it, anyway.”

“Let me consider it with you,” he said, and pressed another kiss behind his ear. “You’ve never suggested a talk that you’ve backed down from, and you know full well I won’t force your hand to do so, but you should know… I’m a _very_ old man.”

She started to laugh, shaking against him.

“I have an old man’s heart,” he lamented somewhat dramatically, nuzzling against her nape. “And if you make me think you’re going to do something like _break up with me_ -“

“I’m not going to break up with you,” she scoffed.

“But _we need to talk_ is often followed by _it’s not you, it’s me_ ,” he reminded her.

She giggled and wiggled back.

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?

“I’ve just been thinking,” she said, so coolly. Even if he weren’t nursed right up behind her, the throb of her nervous heart would’ve given her away. “You know I-… I wanted to wait until the kids were in school, and now they are, and there are all these hours in my day at work I’m not doing anything meaningful. And I wanted – before the kids, before you, before Stefan, I wanted… to study.”

“I hope this ends with you telling me you’re going out to become our breadwinner,” he mused.

“It’s not that simple,” she said uneasily. “I… I’ve been thinking that maybe I can be a mom and a student, right? But I’m not sure if I can work and do that.”

“So quit,” he said simply. “We have no want for money, Elena. I can support us both. Again, old man, old money.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” She was so nervous. He kissed her nape and hugged her a little tighter, and waited for her to continue. “I want to be a doctor.”

“Brilliant,” he said. “When do you want to start?”

“I don’t think it’s that easy,” she said timidly. “I mean – it’s a lot of work. And years of it, too. And the kids – I know they’re at school but I’m not sure how I’ll cope… No, no, this is a bad idea. It’s too much. Forget I said anything.”

“It’s not too much,” he assured her. “If you want it, you can do it.”

“I don’t want to miss out on them growing up,” she protested. “I don’t want to turn into some zombie who only does the menial things for her kids, Elijah, I want to be a proactive mother who knows her babies.”

“You say that like you’re somehow capable of less. My love.” He kissed her ear, then rolled her onto her back so he could press his mouth to her face. “We can make it work. You won’t miss a thing. If you’re so nervous perhaps we could trial a semester – I already studied medicine, but that was a long time ago. Is bloodletting still in vogue?”

She managed to laugh and leaned up to kiss his high cheekbone.

“Thank you,” she said with all the love she could manage.

“I’m fairly certain you’ve been told you never have to thank me a day in your life,” he mused. “But I can think of other ways you can show your appriciat-“ He stopped. Lifted his head off the pillow.

“Dad,” Aria was calling sleepily.

“Babies?” Elena guessed, reaching up to touch his chin.

“Daaaad,” the hellion beckoned.

He sighed, dropped a quick kiss to her shoulder, and agreed before he climbed out of bed.

“Which one?” Elena mused, her mouth twisted knowingly. If it had been Toby, he would have mentioned she had to go.

“My one,” he said with a sly smile, blurring to the children’s bedroom. He pushed open the door and first checked that Tobias was sleeping soundly under his many blankets, a tuft of hair surrounded by pillows and stuffed toys. Kol’s scrying gift was swaying above his head, which was odd, because there was no drought.

“Daddy,” Aria said, sitting in the bed. She was blinking owlishly at him.

“Yes?” he said, and took a seat by her legs, mindful to leave a noticeable distance between them.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and swallowed. “I’m sorry I hit you, and tried to kick you. I’m… I’m really sorry, daddy. I didn’t mean it. I was so _hungry_ – angry. I was angry.”

“I know,” he said smoothly, and watched her for a minute. “I forgive you.”

She looked at him, waiting. He felt cruel to deny that urge in his soul to reach out and comfort her, but her words had cut him far deeper than her actions. He could still hear her hateful shouting in his ears, repeating in his head like a loop.

“I love you,” she blurted. “Do you still love me?”

He gave her a soft smile.

“There isn’t a thing you could do to make me not love you,” he told her quietly. “But I’m hurt. Immeasurably hurt, Aria.”

“I said I was sorry,” she said wetly. “Daddy I said sorry.”

“I heard it the first time,” he told her.

She frowned. This was not the way he usually handled things, but then again, she’d never tried to hit him or try and tell him she hated him before, either. He was not his father. He’d never hold a grudge. But still. This felt like a teachable moment.

“I love you,” she said, her voice shrinking. “Say it back.”

“I love you,” he agreed. “Are you going to sleep now?”

Her frown deepened.

“Daddy,” she said, smaller. “I don’t want you to go. You’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” he assured her. “I’m hurt.”

“But I said sorry,” she mumbled.

“And you also said you hated me,” he reminded her. “And you did one of those things with far more vehemence.”

Her lower lip started to tremble.

“Mike said crying is for babies,” she whispered. “But I feel like crying right now.”

“I think it’s a very good thing, then, that you will always be my baby,” he informed her.

He opened up his arm and she went scrambling to him, tripping on her blankets to crash into his embrace. He hugged her tight and smoothed her gorgeous hair from tangling in her face, kissing her forehead, and shutting his eyes.

He held her while she found composure, clutching onto him, her legs bent to be seated only on his lap. She was as close as she could possibly be, nails biting into his back to keep him near.

“I love you,” she promised him. “Say it back.”

“I love you,” he murmured. “Of course I love you.”

“Are you still mad?” she said weakly.

“I wasn’t mad with you,” he said wisely. “But that woman had a little fear coming, for making you sit, wounded and dirty, and for making your brother upset when he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Toby wasn’t upset with her, he was upset with me, for listening to Mike,” she admitted, and curled further into herself. “I’m not gonna do that anymore.”

“Good,” he said, and kissed her head, rocking her gently. “It’s alright to misstep, princess. It’s alright to lose your temper. But to hit me, and tell me you hated me-“

“I won’t ever do it again,” she vowed. “I didn’t mean it and I hate when you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not-“ he started.

“Yes you are,” she said. “Daddy, I will never _ever_ say ‘I hate you’ again, because I won’t ever mean it.”

He kissed her head, rocked her slightly in his arms, like he had when she was just a little baby. God, he had barely put her down long enough for Elena to feed her. She’d been such a perfect baby, taking tiny mouthfuls from her mother’s breast and then tiny mouthfuls from the cut tip of his finger, just to make sure her lungs were reinforced and strong. He’d kept her in his arms for nearly the entire first week; she slept on his chest, while he dozed and woke to check that she was alive and well every few minutes.

Elena had been the only reason he’d managed to put her down, but that didn’t mean the instinct in him to keep her cuddled to him was ever doused.

“I love you, Aria.”

“I love you dad,” she said around a yawn. “Don’t go. Sleep over.”

He smoothed her hair away from her face and found a small smile on his mouth at her hasty batted lashes. She was just so fucking cute. She was every star in his sky. He’d give her the moon if she asked for it.

“Alright,” he lamented, and she scrambled to climb into bed. He pulled out the covers and got into the single – he’d undoubtedly be kicked and elbowed in her sleep, but it was probably worth it – and laid out on his back for her to cuddle right up under his chin. He kissed her hair and wrapped both arms around her for a squeeze, feeling the tight grip of her little hands settling around his shirt.

“Hey dad?” she said sweetly.

“Mm?”

“Can you teach me how to punch properly? I hurt my hand today.”

“Your mother will kill me,” he informed her with a huge sigh. He patted her arm. “I’ll start tomorrow.”

* * *

“UNCLE KLAUS!” Aria’s shout bounced off the ceiling. Before it had a chance to catch her she was already swept up in the Hybrid’s adoring embrace, spun around in a joyful circle. She grinned so widely every one of her teeth were checked – even the missing one at the side of her mouth – he met the grin with a matching one.

“Hello, little hellion,” he said, and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “You’ve grown at least another inch!”

“Missed you,” she said, and then kicked her legs to be put down and ran through the kitchen to find Hope outside. “HOPE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Klaus raised his brows at her quick departure, but not his nephew’s much slower approach. He was shouldering both his bag and that of his sister’s, and deposited them both neatly under the bench before going over for a quick hug of his own.

“Hi,” said the boy.

“Good afternoon, sir glum,” Klaus said, scooping back the boy’s nigh on unwieldy mane. He had inherited some infernal cowlick that no one could solve, and it was Klaus’ favorite thing to do, to stick it up to its natural height from whence it was occasionally smoothed.

The boy ignored the jab, trailing out quietly after his sister, taking the time to shut the door she had left open in her wake.

“Oh good, he isn’t talking to you too,” Elijah said, going straight to the alcohol and pouring himself two fingers of whiskey.

“Did something happen at school?” was Klaus’ first guess.

“Could be,” Elijah said, draining the glass. He poured out another, then finally turned to look his brother in the eye. “He’s been like this for nigh on two weeks.”

“You’re kidding.”

Elijah pursed his lips.

“What is funny about this?”

Klaus rolled his eyes.

“Has he spoken to Elena?”

“Not even to Elena,” Elijah confirmed. He looked down at his drink. “I think that spending some time with his cousin and Freya may improve his countenance. I have suspicions this is a magical issue.”

“What makes you say so?” Klaus leaned his elbows down on the counter between them, interested. He’d never thought his young nephew to hold a grudge, or to keep his tongue, but the mood was not like him, or anyone his tender age.

“Do you recall when Kol began to truly come into his own power?” Elijah said.

“I remember mother telling us that he was to be the most powerful witch the world ever saw,” Klaus said thoughtfully.

“He was about a year older than Toby is now,” Elijah concurred. “He could turn water to dirt, and dirt to wine, and all matter into different states. Elena and I haven’t been forbidding his magic, but trying to hone his control over it. He made Aria’s hair catch on fire a week ago.”

Klaus scoffed.

“What was she doing to the poor lad?”

“We don’t know, they won’t tell us,” Elijah stressed. He sipped his drink, and cast a look out the window at the children – all three of them standing amongst each other, rather still for usually energetic bodies. Even Aria, his little athlete, was staring with her fists by her sides, shoulder to shoulder with her family. He tried to cast his ears outward but they had spelled him out. Whatever conversation they were having was intentionally private.

“Hope has been doing _that_ , of late,” Klaus muttered, motioning with a lazy hand to the trio. “Magicking herself silent. She’s gotten rather good at sneaking up on me.”

“Where do you think she learned it from?” Elijah said dryly, indicating Toby with a nod of his head.

“Ugh,” said Klaus. He rubbed his face. “Pour me a drink, that I may lament where my little family went.”

Elijah simply handed his own over, then plucked a new crystal glass and refilled it to take a slug. He watched the kids take it in turns to talk, and saw Hope’s bright gaze piercing through him over the top of Aria’s shoulder.

She gave him a shy little wave, and he managed to summon a smile.

“How is she?” Elijah prodded.

“Well, the grip of her nightmare only had her demolishing half the compound,” Klaus said mildly. “She threw Jackson out the second floor. I was put through a wall. Hayley managed to wake her before much more damage was done, but her husband is still healing. He’s upstairs getting a sponge bath as we speak.”

“Tobias has been having horrible dreams too,” Elijah said thoughtfully. “Doesn’t it strike you odd, both our witches are behaving out of character?”

“There’s nothing wrong with Hope’s character in her waking hours,” Klaus corrected. “It’s the nightmares that cause her distress.”

“But at the same time?” Elijah looked at him. “Between them a handful of months, and you’re telling me that our dear mother’s bloodline doesn’t stain them in some way?”

“Magic isn’t an affliction,” Klaus said coolly. “It’s just that age.”

“Aria hasn’t changed an inch,” Elijah said firmly. “And you, and Rebekah, and even Finn – none of us suffered like this, when we were seven. The human children don’t. None of the books say there’s a surge of hormones or other that makes this age particularly stressful.”

“There’s not a book for a tribrid,” Klaus drawled. “Nor a single twin of a doppelgänger and an ancient Viking, as it happens.”

“Precisely,” Elijah said, the taste in his mouth exceptionally bitter. He swirled the drink in the glass and looked out the window, trying to see where they had gone.

“Tree house,” Klaus offered. “I’ll take you in a minute or two. Let them have a moment. Tell me. How is Elena’s studies going?”

“She enjoys it. She’s invested. She worries she isn’t around for the kids.” He shrugged. “She’ll be here no later than six.”

“Wasn’t the plan to give her a three day break?”

“I don’t think my love knows that word,” he mused, and glanced up at his brother. “Ask her yourself when she gets here. How is dear Cami?”

“Thriving,” Klaus’ eyes twinkled. “She adores having her own practice. She’s booked solidly for the next week, otherwise you know she’d be here.”

“Perhaps I’ll book her myself,” Elijah said. “I could use her advice.”

“On when you’re going to make an honest woman out of your precious doppelgänger?” Klaus’ mouth twisted in amusement. “Put a ring on it, as they say?”

“Elena and I have discussed marriage at length,” he said softly, smile fading. He took a sip of his drink, then chased it with the rest of the liquid courage, trying to make his averted gaze subtle. “She’s not interested.”

“She’s only twenty five,” Klaus amended. “My next question, of course, being-“

“She doesn’t want to be a vampire,” Elijah cut off smoothly.

Klaus cocked both brows.

“And you’re alright with that?”

“I don’t know,” he said evenly, and set the glass down. “Perhaps I will call Camille, if you wouldn’t mind passing along her number. Such tender topics deserve better informed ears. And seeing as you neither want to marry her or make her into a vampire -”

Klaus finished his drink and clapped Elijah’s shoulder.

“Let me show you the tree house my clever daughter helped me build,” he said, taking pity on the sad slump of his brother’s usually impeccable posture. “Your son better not set it on fire.”

“He won’t,” Elijah said, and thought: _Probably._


	34. Dad

"Dad?"

Elijah looked up from his laptop, surprised that he hadn't heard the kids enter. Toby was in navy pajamas, printed all over with dinosaurs. There were no wet spots, but yet he was not in bed. Out of the two of them, Toby didn't test bedtime, not like Aria was prone to.

She, to his surprise, was standing just behind her brother, hands wrapped tight around his, her own green and lady bug themed pajamas twisted, one leg of her pants stuck up around her knee.

His heart swelled to see them, even though they’d been put to bed mere hours ago.

He pushed away from the desk and checked his watch to confirm with his eyes what his mind already knew. Late for his daughter, but very late for his son to be out wandering. He fixed them with a narrow eyed _Look_. Neither budged an inch.

"Dad," Toby said, blinking hugely. "Can you call Auntie Frey?"

"Auntie Freya will likely be in bed, sleeping," he said, raising brows at them both. "As should certain other members of this family."

Aria ran in and jumped up, climbing onto her father's lap. She took a fistful of his shirt and pressed her head into his chest, eyes squeezed shut tight. She didn't speak for a full minute, and Elijah simply tucked his arms around her and waited.

He could tell by the rat's nest of her hair that she _had_ been sleeping, and recently - the huge doe eyes and smear of drool on her chin was his next clue. She was bed warm and soft, but her hands were nervous. And he was startled to realize that her wooden sword was hidden in the back of her shirt.

"Dad," Toby said again, inching into the room. "I know it's late, but you really need to call Auntie please."

"Please," Aria echoed, mumbled shyly into his chest. "Or Uncle Kol."

"No," Toby sad quickly. "Not him. I need Auntie Frey."

"What for?" he said, curious. He gave his daughter a squeeze. "Can I not help?"

"No," Toby said, and shut the bedroom door behind him. "Dad, you need to call her now."

"Please," Aria reminded him.

Elijah wasn't entirely sure what was happening, but it wasn't like the kids to be so obscure.

Aria sniffed, and peered up at him. It broke his heart to see her lashes were wet, clumped together into little spikes. Though she hated to cry in front of anyone, she seemed particularly determined never to do so in front of him the older she got. It made a lock of hard panic squeeze in his chest.

"Were you dreaming, princess?" He petted her hair and waited for her to speak.

"I don't think so," she said softly.

"What happened?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

He frowned.

"Aria?"

She hid her face from him again and he felt her tiny chest expand with a deep, shuddering breath. God, she was so like Kol, when he was little. Sulky and fierce and stubborn and head strong, and more reluctant to talk about her fears than most full grown adults he knew. The only time he saw glimpses of himself in the little girl was when she was trying to be intimidating - he found it unfortunately adorable.

"Tobias?" He asked, lifting his eyes to the boy, who swallowed a hard mouthful and shook his head.

"Please call," he said, and his little voice trembled. "Dad, please call Auntie."

"Or Uncle Kol," Aria said, more determined. "He has Aunt Davi. They'll fix it better."

Elijah didn't bother stopping their incoming argument because it resolved itself by falling into an uncharacteristic quiet. Elijah was so unnerved he did as the children bid, and called Freya.

"I'll call her," he soothed, scrolling through his contacts with his free hand. "What happened?"

"I don't...know," the boy said slowly.

"Magic," Ari said flatly, and her grip tightened on his shirt.

"Ah," Elijah realized as the ringing in his ear began. Freya or Kol, the only two witches his children trusted. "Of course."

Elena walked in, her hair loose, brushed down on one side. When she saw her babies not in bed - at quarter past eleven! - she blinked at Elijah like he was at fault.

Toby, standing awkward by the door, didn't look like he wanted to be there, shifting, hands twisting in the front of his pajamas. He had gotten over his night terrors months ago. And if Ari was still in her jammies and sitting on Elijah, it wasn't a wet accident.

"What are we doing?" she asked softly, setting down the brush and padding over to them.

Toby burst into immediate tears.

"Oh," Elena said, and took a knee to catch the boy as he launched and wrapped his arms tight around Elena's shoulders (he nearly bawled her over, because he was at least twice her width and full of nervous energy). His tiny hands desperately grasped her finally unknotted hair. "Baby, what's wrong?"

He couldn't even speak to tell her, he was so distraught. He shook in the circle of his mother's arms like a leaf, and the look on Elena's face echoed the stab of ice in Elijah's chest.

"Elijah?" said Freya's voice in the receiver.

"Sister," Elijah said patiently.

“Are they kids okay?” she said quickly.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. "My children want to speak with you."

“Of course,” she gushed.

Elena was frowning at him over their son's head, hugging him tight.

"I don't," Ari said frankly, lifting her head to talk into the phone still pressed against Elijah's ear. "I didn't do anything."

" _You did so_!" Toby shouted, turning red faced and tear streaked, still clutching his mother as though he might float away. "You did _so_ , you just didn't know you were doing it!"

"So how did I even do anything then?" Aria bit back, and snuggled under her father's chin. "He's bein' dumb, dad."

"Your brother is not dumb," he chided lightly, lifting her to his hip as he stood and crossed the room to hand down the phone to the boy.

Toby sucked up something awfully solid and wiped his face, before accepting it and mashed it to his ear.

"Auntie?" he said, wobbly. "I did an accident."

There was a reply.

"I don't know. Mike was in my room and he kept trying to grab Ari but she was sleeping." A beat. Elena’s horrified eyes met his own, and her grip tightened on the boy. "And then I thought that maybe because I never seen him in the light in ages that I would push light at him and then he'd go away but he didn't..." the child said, brows pulling. He looked so much like Klaus, in those thoughtful moments that Elijah couldn't help but melt slightly. His son, the spit of the Mikealson bloodline, wore all their familial traits in the most heart wrenching ways.

"Also he was naked," Aria piped up. "And I saw _everything_ and it was _gross_."

"No, he said he wouldn't hurt us..." Toby went on. "B-but he said... he said he'd hurt Uncle Klaus. And I don't know what I did but he was really scary and I didn't mean it, so how do we fix it?"

The reply was swift and urgent.

"Dad," Aria moped. "He was _so naked_."

"Did he touch you?" was Elijah's most pressing concern. "Did he touch your brother?"

"No," she said. "No, he was just wrinkly."

"He..." The boy hugged his mother. "He said he'd been tryin' for ages. It was an accident. I didn't mean it, I was trying to push him away."

He sniffed again and nodded at her reply, then handed the phone back to Elijah, who put it to his ear and frowned.

"Elijah, get the kids," she said quickly. "Get them here. Now."

"Freya?"

"Get the kids and Elena here _now_ ," she repeated, flat.

"What happened?" he demanded. "Freya, talk to me. What happened?"

"Your son solidified a ghost," she said, her voice darkening in tone. "I felt it, Hope woke up screaming, and Kol just sent me a text saying that he and Davina were on their way. The only way Toby could possibly access that kind of magic at his age and remain conscious is if he was related to that ghost – it’s bloodline magic, which is why we all felt it. _Mike_. For fucks’ sake, Elijah, how long have your kids been talking to _Mike_?”

“Since they started school,” he said promptly. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Brother,” she said firmly. “How many dead ‘ _Mike_ ’s do you know that want to kill Klaus?” 

She barely finished speaking before Elijah hung up the phone. He put it in his pocket, staring into the middle distance, his heart beating far too hard in his chest. He patted Aria's shoulder, just for something to do with his hands.

"Did he hurt you?" he said, voice barely audible.

"No," Ari said, hugging him tight. "He and his naked bits just freaked me out. We're okay, dad."

"Did he-?" He felt tears filling his eyes but blinked them away. "What did he say?"

"Who is he?" Aria demanded.

"I'm sorry," Toby said. "Daddy, I'm sorry. It was an accident, I didn't mean it..."

"It's alright," he said on a breath. He forced himself to focus. "He left the house?"

"Yeah, yeah he jumped out the window." Aria touched his face. "He said I was like you, and he reached out to touch me, but then I had my sword under my bed and he thought it was funny when I swung it at him. And then he said I had bad form and it wasn't even bad, and then he left. Are you okay?"

He wasn't.

"We're going to New Orleans," he said, still soft. "We're going to live with Uncle Klaus and Auntie Freya for a few days."

"Momma, is it bad?" Toby said, still wobbly.

"It's alright, baby," Elena told him firmly. "We're going to have it all fixed."

"We'll fix it." Elijah parroted. He blinked back his tears, and boosted Ari on his waist. "It'll be fixed by the weekend. Come now. Let's go."

* * *

Aria's brain was a mess of colors and too hot too bright feelings. There was a right, and a wrong, and absolutely shades of grey, but everything was defined by yes and no concepts.

Loopholes, yes. Breaking the rules, no.

And there, on top of all the chaos, was the vision of Mikeal. Completely naked in the dark room, his bright eyes focused down on the child, glittering with pride as she held her wooden sword out between them. He was real; solidified, alive once more. He had touched the wooden blade and Ari had tried to whack him with it, and he had called it 'poor form', but 'a solid attempt' in his signature disappointed drawl.

Elijah came out of her head and turned his eyes to the passenger's window, retracting his arm into the front seat.

"So who is it?" Aria said, leaning into the center console to look at the back of her father's head. "Dad? Who is he?"

"That," he said quietly. "Is my father."

Elena swerved a little on the road.

"Your father?" their daughter repeated. "I didn't know you had a father."

"Everybody has a father," Toby grumbled in the back, arms folded tight around his belly.

"I know that, dingus, but I just meant I thought he was dead-... Oh. He was, wasn't he? That's what Toby did."

"I didn't _mean_ it," Toby stressed. "And he only hung around because when I stopped talking to him, you didn't!"

“I did!” she said loudly. “I ignored him for ages!”

“It wasn’t long enough,” snapped Toby.

"I didn't know he was real," Ari retorted, scowling at her mother. "You said he was an imaginary friend!"

"I said people _have_ imaginary friends," Elena corrected, the street lights flashing over her face. "You said he was helpful. What else has he been helpful with?"

"Nothing," Ari said shortly.

"He's been tellin' her how to hit people when she gets into fights," Toby muttered. “And he tells her to hit me, sometimes.”

Elena twisted her mouth, and shot Elijah an unsubtle, side long look. She had rallied against the swords for the kids - Toby didn't have his sister's blood thirst, and he always got hurt. If, by chance, he landed a hit, not only would Ari's temper fly out of control, but he would be guilty for days.

But noooo, somehow: ' _I was raised fighting my siblings, and it was healthy for us_ ,' prevailed against: ' _Elijah you killed your siblings a number of times_ '.

"I didn't know, you didn't tell me he was real! Besides! You said," Ari accused. "You couldn't see him anymore."

"Because Auntie Frey said not to talk to things no one else could see!"

"Well that doesn’t make sense, because you know I could!"

"That's enough," Elijah said quietly.

The kids, apparently sensing the gravity of the situation, stopped fighting. They gave each other only halfhearted glares, and then each looked out their respective windows.

Ari had her sword in her hand loosely, her hair an absolute mess on her head, eyes beginning to glass over at the late hour. They were nearly at the compound, so she wouldn't sleep - not until she had said her piece.

That being said, she was not the first to get out of the car and run into the compound. Toby was out before Elena had even stopped the car.

He bolted, yanking open the door and letting it bang against the wall in his haste to get inside.

"HEY WAIT," Ari shouted, her sword clattering on the door on her way out. “UNCLE KLAUS!”

Elijah felt Elena's hand close over his, and give a tight squeeze.

"We've done this before," she said softly.

"Not with them on the line," he murmured, and lifted her hand to press a kiss against her knuckles. He studied her for a moment, the fine lines around her eyes, the soft bruising under her lids. She worked hard, always moving, thinking, doing, loving. His pretty love had grown into herself. Always beautiful, just in a different way.

"Same song," she said, thumb stoking his jaw.

"Better harmonies," he agreed, and held her hand to his face for a moment. "I love you."

"I love you. Let's go before they get into trouble."

"Perhaps they did inherit the trait after all." His brow ticked, and earned him a quick smile.

Toby had already run to Freya, and was explaining again, in better detail, the events of the evening as they had unfolded for him. Kol stood to the side, listening intently, serious brows pulled in thought as he linked his fingers with Davina's beside him.

"It _wasn't my fault_ ," Ari was saying vehemently.

"I know," Klaus fell to his knee, cupping her face with both hands. "Did he hurt you, sweetheart?"

"No," she scowled.

"What did he say to you?"

She forcibly firmed her shoulders, every inch a tiny Elena staring down her problems with no real concern for herself.

"He said he wouldn't hurt us," she said. "But he was gonna try to hurt you. And then I tried to whack him with my sword and he caught it and called it bad form. It wasn't even bad form! And he was _so naked_!"

Klaus' mouth twitched, but no smile appeared where he would usually be so amused. He pulled the child into a hug - "Uncle Klaus I'm not four!" - and held her to his chest, eyes going up to his brother.

"Is Hope still sleeping?" Elijah said.

"She woke when the power surged," Klaus murmured. "As did Freya. Kol called not long before you. It runs in the family, apparently. Your son drew power from them all to do as he did."

"It was an accident," Elena said firmly.

"But he still did it." Klaus let the child go, softening as he looked down to her. "A little late for you now, love. Best off to bed."

"I'm not tried," she protested. "I wanna know what's going on."

"And so you will," he promised. "But only after we have a plan of attack, hm? In the morning. We will all sit and discuss."

“You won’t tell us everything,” she said knowingly. “You’re gonna give us the dumb kid version.”

“Yes,” Elijah said sharply. “Because you _are_ a child, Aria. This man is dangerous, and is not to be contested by you. Do you understand me?”

She glared up at him.

“I’d understand more if you told me what was going on,” she said boldly.

Elena took her by the wrist.

“Bed,” she said firmly.

“ _No_ ,” Aria said, digging in her heels before her mother could even pull. “I want to know what’s going on.”

“Bed.” Elena waited for the girl to begin walking, but the child didn’t move.

“I’m going to lose my temper,” Elijah told her quietly. “You have three seconds. One, two...”

Aria didn’t move. In fact, she might’ve fortified, and tucked her lips in, frowning to add to her terrible glare. And there Elijah saw his own face in hers – he loved her, god _he loved her so much_ , even when she was being so willful and stubborn - the lines of her scowl familiar and stern. She was not to be moved of her own will; that was for certain.

“Three,” she said tartly. “Now what?”

Elijah lost his temper.

She went up into his arms, and he flashed up to the bedroom where Hope was laying quietly, dozing rather than sleeping. She sat up with a gasp when her cousin was put down carefully on the bed, already scrambling to sit up and start an actual argument.

He pointed at her.

“You stay here,” he said through his teeth. “Do you understand me?”

“I want to know _what’s going on_ ,” she said loudly.

“You stay _here._ Do I make myself perfectly clear, Aria?” he demanded.

She said nothing.

“Do not test me,” he warned her. “I asked you a question.”

“I _heard_ it.”

“Answer me.” He waited. When she continued to glare and say nothing, he felt his teeth clench and jaw click from the strain. “Aria. Have I made myself completely understood?”

She shrugged jerkily. Gone were the tears from earlier, that malleable sleepy child who had clung to him and sought comfort in his arms. She was all hellfire and stone, now, wanting something he would be damned to give in to her.

“Grounded,” he said, clipped.

“Don’t care,” she retorted.

“Do not leave this room,” he instructed, and turned on his heel. He heard her trying to follow and had her scooped up and dumped back on the bed with an indignant ‘ _hey!_ ’ before he could even make the door. He had to redeposit her back on Hope’s bed twice, each time feeling a new rush of anger. He didn’t have time for the shenanigans.

At eight years old, his son had manifested an entire person. Was he still an Original vampire? What would he do, to kill Klaus this time? What might he know, having been risen from the grave?

“Just let me-“ she grunted, having been dropped on the bed for the third time.

“ _Aria_!” he snapped.

She resolved not to move from the bed. She was over-tired and clearly hurt, but she only folded her arms across her chest and sneered at him.

“FINE!” she shouted.

He breathed out hard through his nose, pulling the door shut behind him as he left. He lingered there, in the doorway, eyes shut and heart breaking in his chest, to listen to little Hope try and console his furious daughter. There was a sniffle and a quick sob.

“Go away, Hope, _I’m fine_.”

“You’re not fine. Oh, Ari, don’t cry…”

“I said go away.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Hope said timidly. “Don’t be scared. It’s okay.”

“I hate it when he’s like this, he’s so scary,” Aria admitted, wobbly, and then started to sob. “I don’t w-want to be g-grounded…”

He wanted to go back in. To give in. A slave to his children always, he never wanted to be the reason they cried; but now was not the time to bend his knee to the soft part of his heart. He needed to be downstairs with his son, who had done this terrible and powerful thing.

Honestly Elijah hadn’t known terror in his heart like this since Elena ran away with the babies in her belly.

He blurred to get to the assembled lot, standing in a circle around his son, who was detailing the white light he’d pushed into Mikeal’s chest. Elena took his hand and he lifted it to his lips. He needed her to remind him that he was not his father’s son. He would never, ever make his children feel the kind of wounded and frightened that his father had made them feel.

Still. He did not feel altogether good about how he’d left his daughter. She was with Hope, and Hope had her head secured on her shoulders – a miracle, mostly Hayley and Jackson’s doing, he was well aware. He would talk to her in the morning. He would make it right once things had been settled with Mikeal and the magic.

“He’s been hanging around for a while,” Tobias muttered sheepishly. “Long as I can think, he’s been around. He told us stuff. He told us how to sneak around without being heard by dad. He told us the code for the lock on the TV. Sometimes he told us stories about war and gods and stuff, and then he’d make fun of my nightmares.”

Elena’s hand tightened in his own.

“Did he say anything else?” Freya said kindly.

Toby shrugged, and kept his shoulders up around his ears like he was worried he’d be cuffed around the head.

“He kept at Ari for ages. Nagging. Telling her to get into fights and stuff. He doesn’t like me. He would try and trick her into doing what he wanted, bribe her and stuff, but she kinda just tricked him back and got her own way.”

“What did he want?”

“The medallion of Aries,” he muttered.

Elena put her free hand over her mouth.

Klaus and Kol both looked at her, then each other, and back to the child.

“What does he want with that?” Freya prodded.

“He said it’d make him a person again. And that it would give him the power to kill uncle Klaus.”

“Oh my god,” Elena said softly. She took her hand out of Elijah’s and put it over her mouth. “Oh my god.”

“But he didn’t tell us that before,” Toby said quickly. “We didn’t know. He said so tonight – he said he didn’t know I could make him alive again, and that the medallion would just be for killing…”

“Where is it?” Klaus said, turning to Elena. “You said you hid it?”

“I did.“ She was holding her face like the Scream, staring at her little boy, who was looking at her with big, guilty eyes, his regret swirling in tears.

“Where is it?” Klaus said again, louder.

“Mystic Falls,” she said, and started to breathe heavily. “Oh my god. Jeremy.”

“My uncle?” Toby said quietly.

All eyes went to him.

“My uncle Jeremy has it,” he said. “That’s what Mike said. He told me and Ari to ask you about my uncle Jeremy, and Damon and Stefan. Ari kept tellin’ him no. He didn’t like that.”

Elena actively sat down, knees visibly trembling.

Elijah carefully slid his hand into his pocket, eyes on his son, thinking.

“A plane?” he suggested clearly.

“I can get one as soon as we get to the airport,” Klaus agreed. “Elena, where’s the medallion, aside from with your brother?”

“In his house,” she whispered. She was very pale. “I sealed it in a box with a blood spell.”

“How’d you manage that?” Kol said, miffed.

“I asked Bonnie to do it for one of my diaries before I ran away,” she said softly. “And then I opened the box and put the medallion inside when everyone was out of the house. Only my blood could ever open it, because Katherine and my birth mother are dead - but if he thinks he’ll use Jeremy against me to get it open-”

“Yours and the kids,” Davina said. At Elena’s startled glance, she blinked. “Elena… You have kids, now, and they have your living blood.”

“That would be why he bothered the kids,” Kol realized. “If he’d been hovering around you, and if he saw-“

“He was harassing Jeremy years ago,” she told them quickly. “He wouldn’t leave him alone. He was a ghost and we couldn’t – Bonnie… The whole reason Bonnie cast the spell was to send me back in time and see where the medallion was – it was all to get rid of Mikeal.”

“And the circle begins anew,” Klaus said softly. “You were sent in time to find the medallion to rid yourself of Mikeal, you conceived the twins, you come back through in time and hide it, and Mikeal stalks your brother to learn you have it. So you get sent back in time to rid yourself of Mikeal…”

“Yes, the time travel aspect is truly interesting,” Freya said dryly, stopping him before he repeated himself in the strange absent way he was speaking. She reached out and touched Toby’s chin, which was wobbling. “You’re alright, nephew. I swear it.”

“I didn’t mean to make him real,” he said, wobbly. “I don’t want uncle Klaus to die.”

“Of course not,” she said gently, and pulled him in for a hug. Over his head, while she rubbed his back, she gave the mother of all Mikealson eyeballs at her siblings and friends. “This needs to be dealt with. Mikeal believed in the old gods for a long time; they grow stronger with worship.”

“Not to mention show favor to the ones who do that worship,” Kol mentioned breezily. “Okay. So we kill him again.”

“Jackson and I will stay with the kids,” Hayley said patiently.

“I can’t watch my father be killed,” Freya said. “And in case he comes here, I want to assist in protecting the little ones.”

“I’ll stay,” Davina said. “I can be more use here with my magic in New Orleans.”

“If my mother has anything to do with it-“ Kol began.

“I’ll incinerate her,” she said sweetly. “I ain’t afraid of no ghost.”

He smiled and kissed her mouth.

“Let’s go,” Elijah said mildly.

They took the Bentley. They had barely gotten to the end of the drive when Jackson flew out, banging on the hood. His sun kissed skin was mottled and pasty – he was wide eyed and nervous.

“The kid is gone,” he said. “Ari – she’s gone. She’s not in bed. Hope said she went out the window. Davina’s casting to find her now.”

Elijah knew in that exact moment that he was at fault. If he’d only humored her, she wouldn’t have ran. She was her mother’s daughter. When she wanted to run, she ran, and she did it well.

What had Toby said?

_He told us how to sneak around without dad hearing?_

“Elena, you need to go,” Kol reminded her from the front seat. “You need to spill new blood to open the seal. You get that coin first, and you can obliterate him.”

Elena made a noise like dull screaming, her heart thrashing.

“I can’t leave,” Elijah said, shoving open his door. “My daughter-“

“Stay,” Klaus advised him. “We will go. Come when she is found and brought safely home, brother.”

“You shouldn’t be going,” Jackson said flatly. At Klaus’ warning growl, he gave one of his own, flashing yellow eyes. “Listen, asshole. You have a terrified kid in that room and your dead father wants to kill you. You should be anywhere but where he’s going.”

“I killed him once,” Klaus said icily. “I’ll kill him again.”

“What about Hope?” Jackson demanded.

“Look after her,” was the cold instruction. He revved the car and took off without another word, tires screaming as he sped against the reverse, peeling quickly out into the night.

Elijah stood with the wolf, watching the back of Elena’s head as she whipped around the corner. He had to believe that his wayward child was only briefly missing, that he could go to his lover and make certain she was kept well and whole.

“I know her scent,” Jackson offered quietly, rolling his head on his neck. “I’ve got my phone. I’ll send word if I get something.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and flashed into the compound.

Toby was inconsolable, shivering in distress. Elijah boosted him up into his arms and held him tight; shutting his eyes against the burn of tears.

“You’ve had such a big night, my boy,” he murmured soothingly. “Yet you won’t sleep a wink.”

Toby howled. So much had changed for him in such little time. His mother was gone and his sister was – misplaced – he had solidified his murderous grandfather and discovered he had an entirely new family line.

Elijah held the child in his arms like he had when he was only a baby, rocking slowly from side to side. He was so much lankier now, all growing knees and elbows, and dark scruffy hair that never sat neatly when it was required to, no matter how it was combed or styled.

He wondered the halls of the compound aimlessly with the weeping child, waiting, praying, for his daughter to be found. For his sister to shout that she was safe; for Davina to call that she was only hiding. He waited for his son to settle but the boy was too tired and too frightened to do it.

He wanted his mother. Elijah already missed her.

So many years, they had not gone a full day without seeing each other. Those beautiful, wonderful years; the most important out of his thousand. He couldn’t have hoped for a more loving mother, who kept his morals strong. Where he often wanted to bow to his children’s outlandish wants – horses, diamonds, a full wall converted into a TV in their room – she kept them humble.

He was so grateful. He loved her so much.

_“If that man hurts my family,”_ he swore in his native tongue. “ _I will set this entire world ablaze and play in the ashes.”_

“Don’t do that,” was Toby’s whisper.

Elijah shut his eyes. Felt his chin dimple with tears. He hid his face against Toby’s soft hair, and took a seat in the office to try and keep his grounding. He sat the child on his knee and steered up his red, tear streaked face, feeling his own eyes fill at the sight of such swollen lids from his only son.

“Don’t do what?” he asked. But he knew. He knew in the way the child was staring at him, like he’d just heard a bad word. Guilty and frightened, convinced that fire would happen. He swallowed, and continued in Nordic: “ _He’s been talking to you for a long time, hasn’t he?_ ”

“A long time,” the child agreed.

Elijah pulled the boy’s head under his chin and hugged him fiercely.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he muttered. The first tear spilled from his lashes and plopped against his son’s crown. “Why didn’t either of you ever say? Was he threatening you?”

“We knew he wanted something,” Toby said, and started to sob anew. “We knew he wasn’t good. He tried to trick us b-but he wasn’t good. He’s been around so long now, daddy, I’m sorry he got me, I didn’t mean to-“

_“Take a breath, my son,”_ he murmured. He shut his eyes, rocking the tearful child. “ _Breathe with me. I know you are not at fault.”_

“I am,” he said. “I did this. I made him real. I’m sorry, daddy.”

“ _Breathe with me, boy_ ,” he said softly. He waited until Toby had mimicked his breathing, then kissed the top of his hair, tasting the tear he’d shed with a burst of unwelcome saltiness. “ _There, now. That man is no good, this you know. He’s just as old as I am and he has made it his business to trick you; you learned his language in the time it took him to do so. I have fallen for his schemes much faster, and far many more times than you. You are my son and my prince; you are clever and kind. You are not at fault for this thing he’s made you do_.”

Toby was quiet.

“ _Do you know that much of the language?_ ” Elijah said, carding fingers through the boy’s hair to see his face. “Have I confused you?”

“No, daddy,” Toby said, sniffing. “I just… _I miss my sister_.” His tiny confession in that old tongue made Elijah’s hair stand on end.

“ _Do you know how to find her_?” he asked.

“No. And I don’t think anyone else, will, either,” he said, shaking his head. In careful Norse, he went on: “Mike _took that necklace_ momma _used to wear. That one that_ uncle Kol _made, a long time ago_.”

“The ward against tracking?” Elijah guessed.

“It looked like it,” the boy said with a sniff.

“ _Of course he did_.”

Honestly the serene note he injected into his tone made Elijah a little grateful for the many years he’d spent alive on earth, because his very soul was screaming in furious, frothing rage. He cuddled the boy and shut his eyes, visions of brutally slaughtering his father for the many misdeeds of his long life playing in his eyelids like a film.

They both rested like that for a long time.

When Freya came in with blood and black dust smeared up her to her elbows, he knew what she was going to say before it was even said.

“We can’t find her,” she whispered.

“Can you use my blood, Auntie?”

“It won’t work against the charm,” Elijah said easily.

“What charm?”

“The one Kol made a thousand years ago for Elena,” he said. “The one he made to keep both our mother and father off her tail. The one that thwarted me. The one that thwarted you, before the babies were born.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Hm.” Was his only reply.


	35. Homeward Bound

Jeremy Gilbert had a banging hot girlfriend, okay. She was a gorgeous friend from college and she laughed at all his very lame jokes; she liked video games and reading, and had declared from the day she’d moved into his house that after 7pm, her bra and pants were off, and they were staying off.

Which, in his eyes, made her 10/10.

He knew from day one she was out of his league. Caroline had vetted her Miss Beacon Hills credentials and signed away her glowing approval. Lola worked with animal sciences and she was more in love with every single one of their rescue dogs than she was with him.

And he was okay with that, because again; she was out of his league.

“Jer, can you grab my phone?” she hollered from the bathroom, where she was studiously administering ear drops to Dolly’s ears. The big dog was not having a good time, but she never did when they messed around with her ears. Shame they were always gross and infected – but they were working on fixing that before she could be safely rehomed.

He did as she asked, passing it to her, hissing through his teeth at the purple bruising on her shin.

“Are you sure it doesn’t need ice?”

“After we put the kids to bed you can kiss it better,” she said, absent minded, inspecting the inside of Dolly’s floppy ear. “Hey, does this look more or less swollen to you than this morning?”

He leaned over the tub and peered into the ear. It was redder, not necessarily more swollen.

“Probably scratched,” he tried to soothe her.

The sound of a doorbell made her glance up at him.

“Expecting someone?” she guessed.

“My other hot girlfriend,” he said. “You?”

“My other hot boyfriend,” she pretended to recall. “Yeah, that’s right, he comes over on Tuesday nights at dick o’clock.”

“Ah! Double booked.” He snapped his fingers.

“How embarrassing,” she teased. “Where will you two be sleeping?”

“What makes you think we’re sleeping?” he said with good humour.

“Hah! Slut,” she said, and invested herself back in the big dog’s sore ear.

The knocking started, a vicious pounding on the frame. It was so hard he could hear it make the floor sound hollow.

“Oh, she’s feisty tonight,” he retorted, and then padded out of the bathroom, jogging down the stairs. The staccato fire of knocks didn’t cease, even when he called out to ease up. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming! Would you quit? You’ll wake the dead-!”

He yanked open the door without first thinking to check who it was.

His breath caught in his lungs and he blinked, unsure if what he was seeing was real life, or another far off dream.

“Hey,” his sister said.

He pointed.

“Didn’t we kill him?”

Kol twinkled his fingers in a ‘hello’.

“Briefly,” he said. “No hard feelings. I’m a witch now.”

“Uh huh,” he said dumbly, and looked at her. “What’re you-?”

“Long story,” Klaus interjected. “We’d love to regale you when we have more time. We need the box.”

“What box?” he repeated.

“I left a box behind,” Elena said softly. She looked unwell. Like, old, and unwell. She had changed somehow. Something was wrong with her. There were dark smudges under her eyes and her skin colour was all wrong. But her voice was the same, and she was wiping away tears, so that seemed pretty on brand. “Tell me you didn’t sell anything.”

“I didn’t, because selling the things that belonged to people you love who aren’t around anymore fucking sucks,” he said, and sounded bitter. “Mom had a ring I would’ve loved to have proposed with, you know. Now I have to find a good one.”

“You’re going to propose?” Elena said weakly. “Oh, Jer, I have most of her things at my house – “

“Charming, good, well done, now-“ Klaus said, filling the frame. “Invite me in so we can get that box, before we have problems.”

“First of all, get out of my face. I’m not a kid any more, Klaus, you can’t just-“

“Jer,” Elena said, ducking under the hybrid’s arm. He watched the too friendly way they stood together, touching, and apparently unaware of it. “Please.”

He sighed.

“Come in, Klaus,” he muttered, and the hybrid stormed in. “Lola! Close the bedroom door!”

“Why?” she shouted back. The dogs started barking.

“Guests!” he said, and heard her calling their four legged children all to hide them away in the master suite.

The Mikealsons and his lost sister filled the entrance. Elena made a beeline straight for the fireplace, scooping out all the ashes and burnt wood with her bare hands.

“Ah, on the carpet!” Jeremy cried out.

“I’ll pay for the steam clean,” Klaus ventured. “Go upstairs to your little girlfriend, mate.”

“What? No. I haven’t seen my sister in – years –“ There were too many to count quickly. “And that she’s here with you is sounding off major alarm bells, _mate_.”

“Remember when I was gonna cut off his arm?” Kol said with glee. He peered at the kitchen, motioning with a lazy hand. “Right over there, it was.”

“Yeah, when I shoved a stake into your chest and made you dead,” Jeremy said viciously. “Good times.”

“One of the best,” Kol said brightly, putting his hands behind his back and swinging like an evil toddler.

“Here,” Elena said, unearthing a box from the pit of the fire, exactly where one had burned not twenty four hours ago. Though the box was wooden, it was only covered in ashes, unharmed by the flames. “Long story short, Jer? Mikeal is back, he wants what’s in this box, and he can’t be allowed to have it.”

From upstairs, Jeremy heard Lola calling to Pig, the boarder collier. She called the dog twice, which was weird in and of itself, because Piggy never went far from Dolly, and Dolly had been getting her ears flushed.

“ _Mikeal_ ,” he said, and his face fell. “Shit. I thought Bonnie had cast him from Mystic Falls, ages ago.”

“About seven years?” Kol guessed.

“Yeah,” he said. Lola called for Pig again, and her voice had changed from high to vague concern. She knew what he knew, which was that Piggy didn’t like to stray. “Shit. So what’s in the box can kill him?”

“It can,” Elena agreed. “But it’s dangerous. Using it can kill the person who uses it.”

“So that’s what _he’s_ for?” Jeremy cut his eyes to Klaus, who was looking up at the roof and paying him absolutely no attention. “Hey. My sister’s not using that thing if she can die doing it, right?”

“How many dogs do you have?” Klaus said faintly.

“Three.” Jeremy frowned.

Klaus’ eyes flicked across the ceiling, and he was gone in a blur.

“Guess we beat him by a hair,” Kol said as he made a break for the stairs.

Elena was not far behind, and Jeremy behind her – they all barreled into the open master bedroom at once.

Jeremy had no idea what was going on, or why his sister gave an awful, startled shriek. Right up until he caught her from running forward and actively hauled her back, he didn’t even see the little kid on the window sill, very carefully not moving, Mikeal keeping her balanced by the scruff of her shirt.

He was outside the house, peering into the window, staring only at Klaus with his bright eyes flashing.

“Good Jeremy,” he drawled. “Always so impulsive. You should let your sister go.”

“Don’t,” Klaus said flatly, holding an arm out beside him.

“Baby,” Elena started. “Baby it’s okay, you’re alright, we’re here now.”

Jeremy felt Elena’s trembling and it made him angry. He hadn’t seen her in years and years, and yet the need to keep her safe and protected still filled his veins. He held her tighter to obey Klaus, because between the two evils before him, the hybrid was the lesser.

“I’m here, I’m right here,” Elena said, struggling loosely. “I’m here, Ari, momma’s here-“

“Momma,” the girl said on a breath. “He compelled me.”

“Momma?” Jeremy repeated, and went entirely unheard.

“Compelled you to what?” Elena said. “What did he do?”

“He said he’s gonna ask for the box.” The girl swallowed. “And I’m gonna jump head first if you say no.”

Klaus snatched the box from her and glared at Jeremy. Elena shrieked and immediately tried to claw her brother’s arms from holding her back.

“Do _not_ let her go,” Klaus hissed. “He won’t hurt one of his own blood, Elena.”

“I have to jump if we don’t get the box,” the child said. She started to shake. “Uncle Klaus, he said I have to jump. Head down. He said my neck needed to snap quick.”

“Uncle?” Jeremy said.

Kol glanced over at him.

“Long, long story. Maybe like a hundred thousand words or more. Time travel, heartbreak, miracle pregnancy, all very entertaining, if you like that kind of thing.”

“You’re not going to jump, love,” Klaus said, holding out his free hand to Aria. “I know you aren’t. Because we’re at an impasse, aren’t we? He can’t go anywhere without this box. And we aren’t leaving without you.”

“We’re at an impasse,” the little girl said, and nodded shakily.

“Who the hell…?” Lola said, emerging from the bathroom. She was not in pants or a bra. She crossed her hands over her crotch and cleared her throat, looking around the scene. “Oh. Hi.”

“It’s fine, just wait in the bathroom, babe,” Jeremy said against his sister’s struggles.

“Uh, yeah, I will, but where’s Piggy?” she said from the corner of her mouth.

“You mean this?” Mikeal held up the dog’s dripping head, and that was about when things really went to shit.

Because Lola screamed and started crying, and the dogs locked in the bathroom started to bark, howl, and beat at the door. She made an aborted movement to go to the window and Jeremy panicked – he let go of Elena with one arm to grab his girlfriend’s wrist and keep her inside, safe.

With only one arm to hold her back, Elena broke free of the embrace, and Klaus had to grab her by the shirt to keep her inside. She choked against the sharp pull and the little girl reached forward, only to have Mikeal yank her back in the exact same way. She went onto the balls of her feet and her arms pin wheeled to try and regain her balance – Mikeal let her shirt go, throwing the bloody dog’s head in the open window.

It hit Kol, who was muttering fervently, and stopped his chant with a sharp exhale of air. The little girl teetered for a long moment – then Klaus dropped the box and dove for her, trying to haul her back inside the house. Too much of him was exposed, however, and Mikeal pulled the Hybrid out, along with the child.

Then they fell from sight to a horrible _thud_ on the earth.

Elena screamed, and tore ass to snatch the box and get out of the house.

Lola was bawling, hysterical over the decapitated dog head lolling uselessly at their feet, and Kol made an effort to get in Elena’s way as she went for the door, prying the box from her.

“He cannot get the box!” he shouted. “With your blood or hers it won’t matter-“

“HE HAS MY LITTLE GIRL!” Elena spat hatefully, swiping for the box.

“I’m not letting you kill my brother,” he said flatly, holding it just beyond her reach. “He won’t hurt Ari, Elena, listen, sweet, he won’t hurt his own grandchild-“

As if to directly contest this, there was a bloodcurdling childish scream from below them. Elena’s knees went so weak to hear it that she fell into the wall, forgoing the box to stumble quickly out of the house, pelting down the stairs three by three.

“ _Stay here!_ ” Jeremy barked at Lola, and sped after her, trying and failing to catch his sister before she ran out of the house, spinning so quickly around the corner she skidded out and fell with a hard thud. He missed her by an inch, the tips of his fingers swiping against her sleeve, and then she was there, looking at Klaus, who was laid out flat on the ground, immobile.

The little girl had her hands over her eyes, and was being held by the leg upside down by the ancient vampire, who looked mildly amused at the whole situation.

“ _Mikeal_ ,” Elena sobbed.

“A fine young girl,” he cooed at her. “Very healthy. Strong bones. Good resolve. She’s clearly of my stock. That boy you have, he took after my mother, you see; suspicious of the world and everything in it. One might say too clever for his own good, but then again, if he were not using his mind against me, I’d be quite proud of him.”

“Mikeal, please,” she said. “That’s my baby. That’s my little girl. Please don’t hurt her.”

“I don’t like hurting children, no,” he said agreeably. “And I won’t hurt this one.”

Elena collapsed to one knee, hands held out.

“Let her go,” she said wetly. “Please. Let her go. Let me hold her.”

“That’s not going to happen,” he said mildly. “You come to me.”

“No,” Jeremy said, swooping down to grab Elena. “No, no, hey, listen – we are not doing what he wants. That’s the trap. That’s his trap. Don’t do what he wants.”

But Elena wasn’t listening.

“Don’t,” called Kol from above them, not even leaning from the window an inch. “Elena, think, for a second. I know you’re scared, darling, but _think._ If he has you and Ari both, and he gets his hands on this box-“

“My baby,” Elena said, as though in a trance. “I can’t leave her.”

“I’m okay,” the little girl said weakly, peeking out from behind her fingers. “He just scared me with the dog, that’s all.”

Jeremy’s eyes flicked to the still body of his pet and then quickly away. Mourning was dinging the inside of his chest but there was no room for it. The ghost that had haunted him was now a living man, and apparently he was holding his niece hostage?

Over a wooden box?

Why wasn’t anything ever simple?

“A thousand years ago,” Mikeal said, eyes narrowed dangerously. “You wanted to play a little game with me.”

Elena sobbed.

“Don’t bring my daughter into this,” she begged.

“A thousand years ago, you evaded me,” he went on. “You made a fool of me, and then you broke me in the way you knew I’d be hurt most to be broken. I’m telling you now, I never stopped thinking of that night. How things might’ve been different. How I might’ve tracked you differently, had I know that you would play fairly.”

Elena dropped her hands.

“Mikeal,” she said. “Please.”

“You had it planned out,” he ground through his teeth. “You had me thinking you would play fair. You did not. You cheated.”

“You used Esther’s magic-!”

“You told me to use any method I saw fit,” he reminded her darkly. He scooped up the child who made a noise of discomfort, and cradled her like a baby. He caught both her swinging fists in one of his own and squeezed until she whimpered. “A thousand years, it crossed my mind every now and then, a maddening little puzzle. Who of us was truly better at our craft? You, for plotting, and me, for hunting.”

Aria struggled in his arms and when she kicked the back of his head with an angry yell he caught her in a compulsion.

“Hush. You need to sleep,” he said quietly. “Sleep deep, and without dreams. Sleep until I tell you to wake.”

Ari’s head lolled back and her eyes shut loosely. She started to breathe long and slow, and her tense legs and arms fell slack, messy hair knotty and swinging heavy behind her head.

Elena covered her mouth with both hands to try and quiet the scream that threatened to pour out of her. Her little girl looked dead, hanging like that.

“Was it that my son had taught you so well for knowing my methods?” Mikeal continued, looking up at Elena. “Or had you played such a crafty game, dangling like a cut of meat before me, to steer my mind astray? Was I distracted, or did that make you cleverer than I for having done it?”

Jeremy had no idea what the fuck was going on. All he knew was the kid was his niece and Elena had beat Mikeal at a game? A thousand years ago? And his dog was dead!

Klaus stirred on the ground.

“If you come with me now,” the father said, lowering his tone. “I’ll leave your child, and I will take you in her stead. I will leave her with her uncle and the abomination who tried to snatch her from me. You and I have a game to play while we wait for what they’re going to do with my medallion, you see.”

Klaus grunted. Put a fist down into the earth. Started to push himself up.

And Jeremy knew that if he held his sister back from taking the child’s place, she would never, ever forgive him. He’d seen too little of her for too long to want to piss her off.

So he let her go.

“You _idiot_ ,” Kol hissed from above.

Elena scrambled and went to him, taking her daughter’s limp hand in her own and pressing desperate kisses to her fingers.

“It’s alright,” she was promising. “It’s alright, baby, momma’s here. You’re safe, now. I love you. I love you so much.”

Mikeal lowered the girl to the girl in a respectful way, taking the time to tenderly brush aside her dark hair. He rose, watching Elena press her shaking kisses to her daughter’s soft cheeks, then he laid a significantly large hand on the mother’s shoulder.

“Stand,” he said, a touch too kindly, and Elena began to cry.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jeremy said. “It’s okay. We’re gonna… we’re gonna figure it out.”

Elena stood, her little girl’s hand still in her own. She swooped down to press one more kiss, lay one last ‘I love you’ by her cheek, and then she was taken by Mikeal, blurring into the distance.

“Klaus is gonna flip his lid,” Kol said. “You’d best get my niece and bring her inside.”


	36. Oh My God(s)

Elijah held his son and stared across Elena’s old room at his sleeping daughter. Her hands were marred as though she had thrown her fists, and he knew in his heart that she absolutely had. There was dirt and mud on her bare feet, and a splash of blood from a slaughtered hound.

She was still in her lady bug pajamas. She looked like death.

He pressed his cheek to Toby’s crown and stared some more. Words filtered in around him. His nerves were shot and he wanted to go out and hurt someone, but the thought of putting his son down made those violent notions fall away. The boy had been set down but twice since Elijah had picked him up some twenty hours ago – to go to the toilet. Then he had been scooped up again, willfully clinging to his father in equal measure.

“…Box,” Kol was saying. “That’s the end game. He doesn’t have any other methods to kill you, brother.”

“We were certain that only white oak could kill us, once upon a time,” Rebekah said testily. “He’s been dead long enough to have explored his options. He has a way now, yes, but that isn’t to say it’s the only way.”

“Your point?” Klaus drawled.

“My point is,” Rebekah stressed, pursing her lips at him. “We can’t hinge the idea that us opening the box and using the bloody coin won’t end with that being exactly what he wants. If we’re so bold as to try, there’s a chance he’s planned a way to circumvent it.”

“And you don’t know how to use it,” Jeremy pointed out. “Elena said it could kill the user.”

“A coin isn’t going to kill me,” Klaus scoffed.

“We _don’t know that_ ,” Rebekah said for emphasis. “That’s probably what he wants, Nik! Do use your head, for gods’ sake.”

A beat.

Elijah felt his sleepy son stirring, and peered down at him. The boy hadn’t slept a wink in far too long. The fact that it was the next night was weighing on his poor eyelids. He smoothed a hand over his face.

“ _I’m here_ ,” he soothed, the Nordic syllables catching the ear of all who hadn’t heard it in as long as he had.

“ _I want my sister_ ,” came the grumble.

“ _She’s sleeping_ ,” he said, not for the first time. “ _You should be sleeping too_.”

“Don’t separate our rooms…” He sniffed, hands curling and uncurling in Elijah’s shirt. He batted open his beautiful big brown eyes and gazed up at him. “ _I don’t want to be apart from my sister_.”

“ _So you won’t be_ ,” Elijah promised him.

“I’m scared about momma,” the child said, and his little brows began to sink together. “Daddy, I’m so scared about momma. _He’s not a good man, he’s not a good man and he has my mother_.”

“ _Close your eyes_ ,” he murmured. “ _Close your eyes, my boy. I’m right here. Your sister is right here with you. You must sleep to be well. Mustn’t you?_ ”

“Yes.” His lashes fluttered.

“ _I’m here_ ,” he went on. He pressed an adoring kiss to his skull. “ _Keep your eyes closed. Sleep. Dream happy dreams. I love you_.”

“ _I love you too, but I want to set something on fire,”_ bubbled unexpectedly from his child’s lips.

“ _Later,”_ Elijah said with a touch of a smile.

He rocked slowly, lulling the child back to his fitful rest, his nose hovering always at the boy’s hairline. He needed a shower. He was still in his dinosaur pajamas, too. But Elijah wouldn’t put him down long enough for that, so he’d suffer the smell.

“When did you teach him the mother tongue?” Klaus muttered.

“I didn’t,” he breathed, and cut his gaze across the room at his sleeping daughter. She’d be starving if she was awake. He wondered if Mikeal had considered the damage he’d do, to leave the child unable to wake. “It’s been too long. We need to make a move. My children are suffering.”

“We need to think,” Kol said flatly. “Don’t let him stir you up. You’re smart, brother, so _be smart_. Don’t let this pain cloud your thinking. I know you love Elena and –“

“You love her?” Jeremy repeated. His expression was one of disbelief. “When I last saw you, you looked like you were gonna kill her.”

“That was because she was on the run while pregnant with my babies,” Elijah said, too placidly. “It wasn’t a good time for either of us.”

“So if she ran away from you, shouldn’t she be good to get away from Mikeal?”

No one was fooled by the casual delivery. It was as much hope as the Gilbert boy could get. He had been stalked by Mikeal’s ghost, yes, but he’d been out of the paranormal world for too long. To think Elena could escape Mikeal now, with all his many abilities and none of her tools, was a joke.

“Yes,” Rebekah said, taking pity. “There’s always a chance.”

He took it. That was the main thing. One less stray Gilbert to wrangle was always a plus.

“One more time for us mere mortals,” Jeremy said. “We have a weapon we can use to kill the guy, but it may kill the wielder. He wants it to kill Klaus. Right?”

“Yes, that is the cliff notes version of it,” Kol drawled.

“So why are we not using some kind of spell to make him think Klaus has fucked up and left the house?” Jeremy said slowly and loudly, like he was talking to someone through a wall of concrete. “Why are we not using the coin to get him to kill himself?”

“We don’t know that is how the medallion works, either,” Rebekah said, thoughtfully. She tapped her lip, then looked over at Elijah, still watching his daughter sleep like the dead. “Brother, you said that Elena’s aunt died after touching the medallion accidentally.”

“She _what_?” Jeremy muttered.

He was ignored.

“Yes,” he agreed. “That’s why Elena had it blood bound in the box.”

“But Elena also used it to make Mikeal impotent?” Rebekah prompted.

“And stirred his rage to chase us for a thousand years in the process,” Klaus said bitterly.

“Yes, but what is the difference?” Rebekah said. “How can one meaning to use it come out unscathed, and the one who picked it up randomly fall dead?”

Kol stood up fast.

“Holy shit.” He said boldly. “She was summoned.”

No one said anything, because no one had any idea what the fuck he was talking about. The volume had stirred Toby, so Elijah started to rock him, stroking his hair from his pale little face.

“She was _summoned_ ,” Kol said again. He looked around at them all, blinking hugely. “Oh god, I miss my wife. Alright, what did I tell you about body switching magic and how you come back without a marker?”

“That was too long ago,” Klaus said.

“You die,” Elijah recalled, because it still made his blood feel too thin and cold in his veins. “Or you’re summoned.”

“She said it whispered to her,” Kol went on. “She said it told her how to use it. How to get herself home. Yet Jeremy has lived with it in his house for seven years and never heard so much a peep. Right?”

Jeremy nodded, uncomfortable with the onslaught of attention. Even Elijah was looking at him.

“Yeah, no, it hasn’t spoken to me,” he agreed.

“So what does it mean, that she was summoned?” Rebekah prompted.

“The gods always know who will best serve them under their banner,” he said, eyes bright. “Aries, the actual god of war, would’ve given the totem to Tatia, knowing it would fall to Elena. That Elena would use it to cause havoc for a thousand years between us and father, to carry on the worship, and keep his name in vogue.”

“Who’s name?” Jeremy ventured.

“Aries’,” Elijah said softly. He looked at Elena’s brother, so oblivious to their world. “The gods. They fall to dust without worship.”

“But if they are thought of, and known to exist,” Kol nodded. “They can continue. Elena hopped a thousand years, but Mikeal didn’t. Mikeal was a force to be reckoned with. Even to our brother, the hybrid, who should’ve won a fight against him. He never did. Why?”

“The gods were meddling,” Klaus realised. He looked at Kol with wide eyes.

“The bloody gods were meddling,” Kol snapped his fingers. “You were always stronger, and more sly – you should’ve felled him a thousand times. But you didn’t. Couldn’t. Because he has the backing of a god, whose dominion is battle.”

“Did Elena not take favour?” Elijah said, lifting his head from Toby’s brow. He blinked as though waking from a deep sleep. “If he spoke to her… made her dream. That is favour, is it not?”

“To get her to carry it to when it needed to be,” Kol was gaining momentum with everything he was saying, and the traces of his native tongue were beginning to bleed into his words, making them sharper. “Aries would’ve had an eye on Mikeal from the second he lifted a blade in his youth.”

“So Mikeal is owed the token?” Rebekah said.

“Not necessarily,” Kol said, beginning to pace. “But this is good – if they meddled then, they can meddle _now_.”

“Well, depending on who’s not yet gone from existence,” Rebekah reminded them quickly. “Before you get excited. We can’t just summon the gods to brawl when we don’t know who still has any power.”

“Oh,” said Bonnie from the doorway. “But what if you could?”

Jeremy cleared his throat.

“Hey Bon. Thanks for coming.”

“Hey Jer, thanks for calling,” she said fondly, then cast a careful look among the Mikealson clan, landing on the girl sleeping on the bed before skipping to the boy in Elijah’s arms. “They’re beautiful kids.”

“Thank you,” their father said.

“You were saying?” Klaus said slyly.

“The gods,” she said simply.

“Yes, we’re on the train of thought.” Kol waved a hand at her. “Contribute something useful or leave.”

“Okay,” she said simply. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Kol bloody Mikealson, love,” he said, narrowing his eyes, a hungry smile winding on his lip. “Have you forgotten so easily?”

“Have you?” she said, lifting her brows at him. She looked at Rebekah. “Who are you?”

“Not playing this game, that’s for certain,” Rebekah said primly.

“Uh huh.” Bonnie looked at Klaus. “And who are you?”

“I am Nikalus Mikealson,” he said dangerously. “First of my name. I am a father and a hybrid, a King of New Orleans. I have traveled every sea and crossed every land, and seen kingdoms rise, fall, and be built anew.”

“That’s more along the lines of what I wanted. But where do you come from?” she said. She put her hip on the drawer, arms crossed over her middle.

“I am from these fields you grew and cut down,” he went on. “I am from this land you call home.”

“And where did your family come from?” she said. “Who are you?”

“Oh,” said Elijah, because something had suddenly clicked in his mind. He looked down at the little boy sleeping so soundly in his embrace, and touched his temple, peeling through memories like pages in a book. And there, in those memories, when he saw his father’s face – he heard stories of his childhood. Of Thor and the Valkyries, the ravens Huginn and Muninn, of Loki and Freya and Odin with his one solemn eye. 

“Oh?” Klaus said. “This means something to you?”

“ _Our_ gods,” he breathed.

“I haven’t believed in those old gods in a long while,” Kol admitted. “Maybe after I was made into a vampire.”

“I stopped with the turn of Christianity,” Rebekah confessed.

“Only children believe in those old stories,” Klaus dismissed. “They cannot be of use to us.”

“Everything,” Bonnie said slowly. “Everything the gods do to meddle is done because they need to be believed in to exist. They need thoughts and prayers to become. In your time, it was your Asgardians. You believed in them then, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Klaus said sharply, losing his patience. “I did then, because I was a naive fool and they were how we explained the fucking weather. Now make your point, Bennett, or leave.”

“Only children believe,” Elijah whispered. He shut his eyes, because he didn’t want to think. But the blackness of his brain had fit the puzzle piece, and he hugged his son tighter. “Mikeal told them stories. The same way he told us stories.”

“Yes, stories about war and -“ Klaus stopped. It slotted into his brain. He sank in his chair, blinking hugely at Elijah, who was nearly doubled over his child to hold him close. “War and gods… Mikeal regaled your children with the stories of our youth.”

“Oh, that is not good,” Kol said helpfully. 

“Wait. They’re just kids,” Jeremy said, looking at Bonnie. “They can’t be involved in this stuff, Bon. That’s not fair.”

“Mikeal has the favour of a god on his side,” she offered him quietly, to soften the blow. “That is what’s not fair. It’s not fair that they stuck their noses into this business and made it all happen. Aries made it so Elena would bring the medallion forward and make Mikeal a killing machine – but he has no power over pregnancy. And she was on birth control when she got pregnant, wasn’t she?”

A silence.

“Again,” Jeremy said weakly. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“One of the Asgardian gods made it so that Elena got pregnant,” Bonnie simplified. “And allowed a Roman god to meddle with the nature of time, so her kids would bring them forward to exist.”

“I will kill a god,” Elijah promised no one at all. “I will kill ten of them if they come for my children.”

“They don’t want your children to fail,” Bonnie said. “They need to be invoked. You have to make them believe that the gods are listening, and then they’ll listen. Ask for a bounty. Don’t think they won’t give you what you need if you promise to love them for the rest of your lives – you have the power to keep them in vogue. Without you, they become nothing.”

“Our gods aren’t exactly known for their good graces and common sense,” Kol said with his nose scrunched. “They’re vicious and tricky, jealous and sometimes rather dumb.”

"But powerful," Bonnie reminded him.

"Okay! Time out. Time-! _Out_!" Jeremy said loudly. Tapping the tips of his fingers into the cross of his palm, he gave each person a pointed look. "Say it like I don't have magic powers and have no idea what the fuck is going on. You’re telling me that gods - two completely different sets of gods- got my sister pregnant to _exist_?"

"Yes, for the love of god," Kol lamented. "Do keep up."

"And these kids-" Jeremy went on, a little louder. "Are my niece and nephew?"

"Ours too," Rebekah agreed. 

The human took in a deep breath.

"Any particular reason I wasn't told?"

"That's for Elena to explain," Elijah told him quietly. Only when the young man's eyes had found his own did he continue to speak. "My children are your family, and they are in danger. That is all you need to know."

"Okay. Sure." Jeremy retorted. "So what I'm actually getting is that we’re running out of time to make a call on how to kill Mikeal, and you want to involve - _ugh_ , the _gods_ \- with these kids.”

“The gods have already meddled,” Bonnie said, nodding to Aria. "She was made after her brother out of material that should never have worked. I'm telling you that if we invoke the right Aesir, they will probably call to arms and decimate Aries _and_ Mikeal."

“It's too neat and easy. What are the cons?” Klaus said abruptly. “Say my nephew wakes and calls on the old gods. There is always some price. What will his detriment be?”

“There won’t be one. He serves the gods so they exist, or he doesn’t, and they won’t. You can’t get pissed off at someone for bringing you to life.”

“I’d beg to differ,” Kol muttered, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Elijah... Mikeal was already dangerous, but with the backing of a war god who has sole attention on him, he’s downright deadly. We must contact our gods through Toby.”

“You can’t ask him to involve his child,” Klaus scoffed. “That’s cruel, even by my standards.”

Elijah said nothing. He was still listening, though his eyes were shut and he was bent over his son, listening to his quickened heartbeat, knowing that he had come into consciousness sometime recent.

“ _What have you heard?”_ he asked delicately.

“ _That I can help_ ,” whispered the boy.

The Original knew in his very marrow what the choice was. He breathed in to temper his initial reaction, which was a loud, firm no. Telling his children 'no' was not his strong suit. He kissed Toby's hair to prevent the desperate, awful 'no' inside his mouth.

“ _What would you like to do?”_ he asked fairly.

“ _I want to help_ ,” Toby said earnestly.

Elijah sat slowly and looked at the boy, who was still so tired and small. He was just a little boy. He had no reason to beg some bygone gods for help. He pressed another quick kiss to the child’s head and helped him stand, taking him by the shoulders to square him up.

“ _You are my son,”_ he said. “ _And I respect that you want to do what you can. But this is very dangerous, and I need you to understand that I don’t want you to do this._ ”

“I know you don’t,” the boy said.

“If you said no-“ Elijah’s eyes were flooding. He wanted the child to agree so badly. To climb into his lap and just stay there forever, and be safe. “ _If you say no, my son, I will not ever judge you. No one here will ever think of it again. It would not be selfish, to want to be safe_.”

“Daddy,” the boy said, and he was Elena’s patience and understanding, too much human in a too fragile body. “ _It’s selfish to try and make me not want to help_.”

Elijah was gonna die. He was too old for his heart to be beaten into like it was.

His boy, so gentle and kind, was not ever going to back down when his family was in trouble. It might ruin all of that innocence in him, and warp his soul. He wanted to compel him into a different mindset – but a look over his shoulder at the daughter laying so still upon the bed had him swallowing the urge with a gurgle of nausea.

He was not his father’s son. He didn’t force children to behave with mind tricks they couldn’t resist.

“Alright,” he said softly, and summoned a smile from somewhere deep inside. He nodded, and cupped the child’s face in both hands. “Alright. If you want to help. You can. I’d prefer if you didn’t, but if you want to…”

Tobias held his wrists, smiling as his father’s advice faded into nothing. He was so tired and small. Elijah’s heart was breaking anew.

“I’m gonna help,” he said earnestly. “And I’m gonna set something on fire.”

“Alarming,” Elijah noted blandly, then pulled him in for a hug. He kissed the side of his head and hugged him tight, looking at the ceiling. “Someone had better tell us how to call on the old gods, then.”


	37. Fair Play

Elena wasn’t sure what to do. What was expected of her.

Her mind was awash with her babies, and what they were doing. If someone had woken her daughter up, yet.

And Mikeal… he was just sitting with a book, sipping a cup of cold coffee, very, very calm. They hadn’t really spoken; she hadn’t known what to say. If by speaking, she’d pierce the veil of what was currently a safe in between.

“Are you going to make me run?” she asked hoarsely.

“Yes,” he said simply,

They lapsed into silence.

“You aged well,” he noted.

“Thank you,” was an auto-response she had trained into her kids.

“You’re welcome,” he said, and turned a page in his book. “You’re getting nervous now. You took your time.”

“Took my time?” she repeated.

“Keeping your head,” he said mildly. “I was waiting for an outburst. I was fond of them when you gave me a slice of your mind, way back when. You knew so much of what was to come, and yet you stayed your ground. Good for you.”

The way he said it made her skin crawl. She shifted in the seat and looked around the small lake house.

It wasn’t hers, or anyone’s she’d ever been to. This was a two story house by the lake, but it was dusty and gross. And if Mikeal was in it, unlikely owned, let alone frequented – although there were several beer cans in the corner of the living area and an old collapsed tent.

“I need you top of your game,” he advised her. “No use in having you anything less. These days I’m superior to your hunting standards at every turn. I was waiting for the outburst before we began. You’ll be sharper when you’re angry, and I need that from you.”

She stared at him over the table. He just sent her a sunny smile, licked his finger, and turned a page.

She didn’t say anything for a good long while. But boy, was her blood beginning to boil. Knowing that was what he wanted made her even angrier, faster. Her heart was nearly out of control, banging so hard she heard the thumping in her ears.

“There you go,” he encouraged. “That’s better. Nice and fast.”

She turned away from him, staring out at the water. Her mind was whizzing, and the old lessons Elijah had driven into her brain were beginning to play on different loops in her head. But some things were blurry. Some things she knew she was missing, a lot of black ink in her memory. She’d been a mother at a school of healing for so long – running and hunting and being chased wasn’t something she did.

Unless it was with Elijah. In their heads. In their beds. And that was not the kind of playtime she wanted with Mikeal, that was for damn sure.

“I just needed my daughter to be safe,” she told him bitterly. “I won’t run.”

“Yes you will, and I counted on it.” He lifted eyes to her. “She’s bold, that girl. She hit me in my face, twice. I can count the number of times that has happened on one of my hands.”

“Good,” Elena said simply.

“The boy is a little soft,” he went on. “You spoilt him.”

“I spoil both my kids,” she said. “I love them. But you wouldn’t know what that means, Mikeal. Your version of raising a child was to make it feel small and scared.”

“My children were right to fear me,” he said coolly. “That was a different time. We were readying for constant battles. I needed the boys strong, and my girls swift. They all needed to understand life was hard. Mollycoddling them would’ve made them a target.”

“I don’t mollycoddle,” she said.

“You smother Tobias,” he said evenly. “He’d have a bad dream and run straight to you. Aria soothed herself because you let her do it, and look at her strength now.”

“They’re different,” she protested. “They need different things from me. You had so many kids, Mikeal, how did you not ever learn that?”

“Because my children needed to be reared strong,” he said simply. “That was what they needed from me. And that was what I made them.”

She was disgusted by him, not for the first time.

“You know,” she said testily. “When it was a thousand years ago, I could _kind of_ understand how you raised them. I never understood the way you nearly killed Klaus, but the life was different. They _did_ fight all the time. They were the best, because you made them the best, because you kept them fighting fit.”

He bowed his head to her in thanks.

“But now?” her voice pitched. “You still don’t look back with regrets? After centuries of thinking? Of learning, and growing? Of discovering psychology, and seeing how your children grew up? How they existed, hating you? How the world changed around them? You didn’t ever regret their upbringing?”

“Not even an inch,” he said.

“What about Freya?” she demanded, and knew it was a sore spot by the way his fingers tightened on the book. “Would you have risen Freya differently if she had stayed?”

His silence was indication enough. Over the years, Freya had mentioned tiny slithers of her life as a child. Sometimes unprompted, but sometimes with the things that Elijah or Klaus would say. She would whisper her secrets to Elena like they were a shameful thing, but there was a lot of fondness in her eyes while she did it.

“You know she chose to stay in New Orleans, rather than watch you die?” she told him. “I think that’s sad.”

“If my eldest couldn’t bear to see her siblings and bastard half-brother go to war with me, I should think it were a mercy,” he said through his teeth.

“I would think if she loved you she would come to at least say goodbye,” Elena said clearly, smugly, folding her arms over her middle.

“Freya wouldn’t ever stand against me,” he said flatly.

“Well I can’t see her standing up for you now,” Elena taunted. “Maybe because you kidnapped one of her nieces.”

“Your daughter climbed out of the window of her own accord,” he hissed.

“And you _stole_ her,” she retorted.

He seemed to realise her plan to rile him up, get his temper going so that she didn’t have to contend with his whole focus; he deflated in his seat, licking his finger to pointedly turn a page.

“You nearly got me,” he muttered. “I should pay credit where it’s due. You are remarkably sly, for your age.”

She shrugged.

“I spent a lot of time with Esther,” she said coolly.

“You spent more with Elijah,” he pointed out.

“Elijah taught me how to be safe,” she agreed. “Part of that was anticipating what my enemies wanted, and undermining it. You want me to run to prove some old point, Mikeal, and I won’t do it.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, and set the book aside.

“You will,” he said. “If I have to bleed the vervain from you and compel you to do it, you won’t have a choice.”

“Hah,” she said darkly. “Vervain. There’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Freya cast a spell against familial compelling after the twins turned three. Everyone in Elijah’s bloodline can’t compel me.”

A lie. A total and utter lie. She really thought he would catch it, but the stormy look on his face let her know that he bought it.

She settled back in her seat smugly, and waited for his verdict.

“You are such a bold little thing,” he said dangerously. “I should’ve known you were too placid to walk with me so willingly.”

“Whoops,” she drawled, and thought it was very impressively blasé.

Then he launched at her, and she was choking on his blood in her mouth, overflowing at a huge, cruel rip in his wrist. He flooded her mouth and throat until she gagged and actually threw up some of it, then made her swallow that back down and sat back on her ribs.

Her head was spinning, and she wiped roughly at her face, struggling to breathe with his weight on top of her.

“You know,” he said. “When I hunted you, I was a human, and you were a human. Now I am vampire, and you are human, there is such an imbalance between us.”

She caught the edge of his meaning, and shoved at his stomach, bringing panicky fists into his thighs and crotch to try to get him to stop. He caught her hands and shoved them upwards, nailing them above her head in a single claw.

“Mikeal-!” she yelped, desperately. “No, don’t, my kids – Mikeal please -!”

“Far be it for me to be so unfair,” he muttered. "If I don't I'll never truly know where the true skill lies. You'll have to pardon the headache I'm sure you'll have when you wake up. Goodnight, Ele-"

And the sound of her own neck snapping cut off the rest of what he said to her, but she was fairly certain she could guess what it was.


	38. Aesir

“Just relax,” Kol urged his nephew, lighting the last candle in the circle.

“I’m okay,” Toby said again.

He glanced across at his sister, who was still sleeping, and took her hand. She didn’t move, not even to squeeze it back. He pulled a face and looked up at his father, who was gnawing his thumbnail to the quick.

“Brother, your nerves.” Auntie Bex said.

"I assure you, I'm containing them."

"Dad," Toby said lightly. "Your thumb is bleeding."

Elijah looked at where he'd been chewing, the bright stripe of blood that trailed down his finger. He unfolded his pocket square and dabbed at the blood absently.

Auntie Bex strolled over to the circle Toby was sitting in with a pretty smile. She sank into a crouch before him and reached out to try and smooth out the tuft of hair that always sat up on his head.

“You’re brave, my gorgeous nephew. This we all know. But if this gets too scary, or if it doesn’t work, it won’t matter. We just try the next thing.”

“Okay,” he said.

“There’s always another way,” she assured him.

"But this will work." He looked around at the circle of candles that encompassed the two of them, and felt a little bit caged in. He shifted back, which made his aunt’s hand slide from his hair. He didn’t mind so much to apologize, because something was happening to the lights. "It's working."

He could see the steam of a newly lit wick raising up, but it was getting higher and higher, more and more solid as it went. He felt the need to lay back and so he did, mirroring his sister, clutching her hand in his.

“Count back from ten,” uncle Kol suggested.

“Uhm, no,” he said, squinting at the roof.

“W…What do you mean, no?” uncle Kol said, bewildered.

“I can already see Asgard,” he said simply. “Heimdall is asking if I’m going to cross.”

“No, no,” Kol urged. “No, darling, you mustn’t cross. Tell him no, thank you. Tell him to ask them out. Call them here.”

“Hmm,” the child said simply. “Doesn’t work that way, he says. I have to go there.”

“We can’t follow,” Kol reminded him. “You mustn’t cross. You’ll be too far away. You must call them here.”

“I can’t see anything,” whispered Jeremy.

“Good,” was Bonnie’s murmur.

“But…” he tilted his head. The ring in the roof was starting to look frail, somehow. Crumbling. Kind of like melty ice. Heimdall, in his golden armor, was not willing to hold open the portal for much longer. “May I bring my sister, please?”

The big man nodded, and offered the child a hand.

The rest of the room saw Toby sit up, reaching for the ceiling with one hand, and then blinding white light. When the room cleared, the candles shot jets of fire into the roof and marked it in a perfect circle of smoke, and the children were completely gone.

“This-“ Kol gaped. “Wasn’t a real spell… this isn’t a real…”

“It’s a real spell now,” Bonnie said simply.

* * *

“Hi,” Toby said. “We’re in Asgard.”

“Why?” Aria grumbled. She scowled and looked around, shielding her eyes from the light. “Who’re you?”

Toby moved to see who she was talking to. It was a big man. Huge. He had biceps like watermelons and chest piled with corded muscle. He was dressed in fine clothes with a mighty red cape and wore a hammer on his hip. He seemed very interested in the children, peering down at them with bushy blonde brows hiked.

“Oh. Tiny intruders,” he said, very amused. “I adore them.”

“You cannot keep them,” said a soft voice. The woman who appeared was so pretty that Toby actually felt the need to try and flatten his hair. It didn’t go unnoticed by either god, who smiled down at him knowingly. “Although I might also adore them. When can we have more babies?”

“Later,” the big god said, and reached down to pluck Toby from the chair. Holding the child straight out, he twitched and tilted his head at him. “I cannot believe it! This is one of mine.”

“Is it?” the woman said with an excited gasp.

“What?” Ari demanded.

Toby looked at his sister, and willed her just to follow along, for once. She caught this and read it, and sighed petulantly but did as she was told.

“This _is_ one of mine,” the big god repeated, and set him down. He caught Aria under the arms with an indignant “ _hey!_ ” and scrutinized her face, but only hummed and set her upright on the floor. “That one is not.”

“We’re twins,” Aria said pointedly.

“You aren’t,” he assured her.

“Uh, yeah,” she said with petulance. “Pretty sure we shared a womb and were born on the same day so, that makes us twins.”

“You were never one,” the big man informed her. “I am Thor, wielder of thunder and master of fertility. I know these things.”

“I am Sif,” the woman said warmly. “Of tempering storms and earth. How may we call you, little ones?”

“Pleased to meet you, miss Sif, I’m Tobias Mikealson,“ he said, holding out his hand. When no one took it, but rather look at it oddly, he felt his ears go red as he snatched back his hand.

“Don’t be rude to my brother,” Ari said sourly. “Take the handshake.”

“The handshake is unknown to us,” Sif mediated.

“Put out your hand,” the girl said. “This is polite to say _hello_ and _goodbye_. Gimme your hand and I’ll show you.”

Sif glanced at Thor, who was delighted by the attitude. He nodded and they both stuck forward their palms.

“Now. I’m Aria Mikealson,” she said, and shook Sif’s hand firmly. She did the same to Thor’s. “Good to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, Aria Mikealson,” Thor rumbled, and in it they felt the floor quake. He turned to Toby and put out his hand, to which the boy shook respectably. _A good handshake is an important first impression_ , he heard his father mention in his ear. “Good to meet you, Tobias Mikealson.”

“Thank you,” he said politely, almost a reflex. At least his momma would’ve been proud. “So-… I have to tell you something. I don’t… I don’t really know how to say.”

“You mean to ask us for favour,” Sif said. “Most humans do.”

“I don’t even know why we need help,” Ari said sulkily. “My stupid grandfather forced me to go to sleep, and then I missed everything.”

“Did he? Poor, tiny child,” Sif cooed, and reached out to delicately touch Ari’s small, angry face. She made all the hard lines go away, the girl blinking open eyes blown with huge pupils. “Better, now?”

“Better,” she said dopily, cracking a brilliant grin.

“Uhm,” Toby said nervously. “So. My grandfather stole my momma. And he’s got a god at his back, and we need help.”

“Who?” Thor said patiently. “What god is patron to this grandfather who steals mothers?”

“Aries,” Toby said.

The air around them crackled.

“Ah,” Sif said slowly, and reached out to stroke Thor’s arm. “My dear. Your temper.”

“I’m doing my best,” he mumbled, and swallowed behind his thick golden beard. “You say Aries has meddled with you. Had a hand in stealing your mother?”

“They didn’t really tell me,” Toby said weakly. He twisted his fingers around. “My dad and family, they didn’t actually say, I just… They wanted to speak to you so they didn’t tell me everything. Just bits. They said Aries has a – a medallion? And my grandfather needs it, to kill my uncle?”

“Oh, delicious theatrics,” Sif said, amused. She stroked Thor’s arm. “Go on, dear. Can we meddle?”

“I thought we were taking a millennia off?” he said.

“It’s been like, a thousand years already,” Ari pointed out. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

“Will it?” the big god said, a blinding white smile peeking through his beard. “You can promise that?”

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “If you like drama.”

“We thrive,” Sif purred. “On a little drama.”

“Well, if you do want that,” Toby said slowly. “What I do know is that my grandfather is a thousand years old, and he technically died once, and then I accidentally brought him back to life, but he’s still an Original vampire.”

“An Original! My dear husband,” Sif said softly. “We _know_ that one.”

“Do we?”

“Yes. Recall. The horrible one with the bastard wolf born son?”

“Oh, that’s my uncle,” Aria said mildly.

“Was it…?” Thor thought, rubbing his beard. “Was he quite tall?”

“Not particularly. The father was a blonde, and rather good with sword. He beat the boy. Recall. The Original vampire that was the one threatening to ruin… oh, but surely you two don’t belong to our time crossed lovers? That was so long ago. We weren’t sure we’d even meddled, we were so green to it.”

“And they hardly needed the push.” Thor blinked at them, his glittery blue eyes suddenly going wide. He bent to inspect Toby’s face, then dropped into a crouch, head tilted. “I wasn’t sure my ability would undermine that tricky little tool in her arm, that prevented many more pregnancies being had. She should’ve had at least four more.”

“Uh,” Toby said. “Sorry?”

“No matter,” the god said, and clapped his shoulder fondly.

Toby made a hollow noise and rocked forward.

“Be gentle with my brother,” Aria said tautly, scowling at him.

“Oh, my dear… That rings of someone I know,” Sif said softly. She reached out and ran her hand over Thor’s head, smoothing away the wrinkle in his brow. After a pause, she turned to the big god, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder like silk. “Do you remember? The parents who ran in the forests? They played such torrid little games? And that hateful man, who called on you to have more children to beat? How he chased her too?”

“Yes…” Thor said. His bright blue eyes were fixed on Toby, who shifted under the attention. It wasn’t often that he had all eyes on him. That was his sister’s forte.

“Surely!” Sif said. “Oh, husband, surely, we can go meddle!”

“If it is truly one of mine having come to fruition,” he said as he stood. “Perhaps. But this one, she is not mine. I cannot guarantee your safety, little one.”

“Oh,” said a silky voice. “But I can.”

All eyes went to the mass of shadows that stepped out into the light, taking form in a willowy man with dark hair. He smiled and it looked naughty, somehow, but wildly pleased.

“Brother,” Thor said. “Is this one yours?”

“She certainly is. My last one, too,” he cooed, and moved like he was gliding, green robes spilling like liquid. He stopped before the children, and swept into a crouch to stare her in the eyes.

“Your eyes are making me feel sick,” she said flatly.

His smile widened. His eyes were all the colors, flecks and blobs and twists in his iris, swirling around and forming different shapes.

“You needn’t worry for long,” he said placidly. Without warning, he grabbed her head, forcing her upper lip up with his thumbs. She shouted and struggled, and Toby lifted his hands to cast a rush of fire at him, but the flames licked over the god and did _nothing_. “A little pain, then you’ll be fine.”

He pressed in with his thumbs to her gums and she cried out, her knees going weak, which was about the time that Toby lost his patience for magic and just tried to barrel him over. He made him roll onto the balls of his feet for balance, but not fall.

Aria dangled from his hands and screamed again, then _click_.

Two fangs popped out of her gum line, and her iris went entirely black, spidery veins filling the tender skin beneath her eyes.

“Loki,” Thor warned.

“She’s a half cast,” he explained simply. “You already had a child in the woman; I just… planted a seed of my own.”

“Idunn will be furious,” Sif said, and scooped the dazed girl into her arms.

Aria shoved her away and Toby covered her with his significantly larger form, glaring absolute daggers at the trickster.

“Oh, stop it,” he said with a pout. “You’ll make me feel bad. At least now she’s stronger, and won’t be harmed as easily.”

“You hurt my sister,” Toby accused.

“I made her better,” Loki corrected.

“The least you could do is grant her a boon,” Thor instructed. “After such pain.”

“I merely brought forth her teeth,” Loki said simply.

“You cannot treat the ones who love you this way,” Sif said firmly. 

“Oh, but of course I can,” Loki simpered, mocking her. “Chaos runs Midgard. I am the god discord. I have no need to cater to my worshipers like you do, because I am served in so many other ways. But to get back at Aries, the Norns did whisper about needle sharp teeth serving particular justice.”

“I’ll show you _justice_ ,” Aria snarled, baring her new teeth. Two ribbons of blood coated the new fangs and Toby glanced at her, seeing them up close for the first time. He didn’t even bat an eye, he just gave her a side on hug – his spare hand filled with fire.

“Not if I show him first,” he promised her.

“I adore them,” Thor said, and bent to snatch them up, just as Loki’s smile grew wide and insane.

Everything swirled and blurred and there was an awful jerking sensation, like they were in a barrel that had been tossed down a colorful hill. They bounced and shouted and then were dropped an inch above the floor, a big god’s hand having caught the backs of their collars to prevent smashing onto the grass.

“It’s been too long since I traveled here,” Thor admitted. “My sincerest apologies, little ones. I used to be much more graceful.”

“He lies,” Sif said warmly. “He’s too big for the gateway and always has been.”

Aria reached back and smacked his hand away before she was yanked upright; the smell in her nose was her father’s cologne, and she hugged him around the neck tightly, her fangs still out. Elijah braced a child on each hip, standing off behind Niklaus, who bared fangs alongside his brother and sister.

“Wait!” Toby stressed. “Hey, _wait_! They’re here to help!”

“We think,” added Ari. She wriggled to be put down but Elijah wouldn’t let her go. “Dad, c’mon, there are people and they’re looking…”

“I don’t much care if they look,” he told her softly. He turned his eyes to her, but she was hiding under his chin. “I had to watch you be dead and still for an entire day. If I ever let you out of my arms again, it will be a miracle.”

“An _entire day_? Your dad _sucks_ ,” she said shrilly. She squirmed and shoved his shoulder, but not as hard as she might if she actually wanted to be set down. “Daddy c’mon, I’m fine, put me down.”

“He is,” whispered Sif. She clasped her hands in front of her mouth, looking gleeful. “Oh, wouldn’t you look. _Look at him_!”

“It is he, petal,” Thor agreed. He looked at Klaus with a twisted smile. “And the wolf born. I kept an eye on you for so long. How strange to see someone hasn’t slaughtered you in cold blood.”

“Believe me,” Klaus drawled, putting his fangs away at a quick look at Mjolnir. “It’s just as surprising for everyone else I meet.”

“But if it is he,” Sif said slowly. “My tiny time traveler has been absconded with by the nefarious grandfather. Husband, this will not do.”

“No,” he said, and turned his attention to his wife, lifting his arm so she could sidle under it, pouting prettily. “If it is the ones we meddled with, then it will not do. Certainly not by Aries’ hands.”

Aria kind of gave up the pretense of struggle and linked her arms around Elijah’s neck. He turned to kiss the side of her face and she bashfully returned the affection with a kiss back. Toby, still so tired for not sleeping in an entire day, tucked his cheek to his father’s shoulder and became drowsy.

“I want so many babies,” Sif said, her eyes dreamy. “And I want them to be just like those two.”

“Borrow _them_ first,” Kol teased. “They’re not always that quiet.”

Thor laughed, and it shook the actual air, fizzing in ears like soda. He wagged a finger at Kol, then set the meaty hand on his hip.

“So we’ve discovered your horrid father has absconded with the tiny time traveler,” he said brightly. “And has backing by a hateful enemy of mine. Had I known he was meddling in your pretty love’s affairs, I never would have allowed it in my domain. But with items it can be tricky to detect – he was how she disappeared into time, no?”

“She was given a totem,” Kol said helpfully. “A medallion. He means to use it now to kill my brother.”

Klaus lifted his hand in a half wave.

“I’m the brother.”

“You have it?” Thor rumbled.

“We do,” Kol agreed. “We don’t truly know how to use it. Though I surmise that using it against one of Aries’ favored won’t do us well.”

“Those trinkets cannot be used unless granted by them who made it,” Sif agreed, her voice rolling like a warm breeze on a cold night. She cuddled up to her husband, batting impossibly thick lashes at him. “Those poor babies. Loki hurt the littlest.”

“Aria,” Elijah murmured softly. “What did he do to you, princess?”

“He made my teeth hurt,” she supplied dully. “And he called me a half-cast.”

“She was conceived by vampiric seed,” Thor said sheepishly. “You created her more recently than your son.”

“What?” Rebekah said softly. “He… he conceived with… as a vampire?”

“My brother saw I had laid claim on your love’s womb –“ Thor started, and held up his hand to Elijah’s darkening stare. “To assist in the fertility, only. The boy is one of mine, because I meddled to make him born. But my brother is the patron of his own children, which is _she_ , and she is made a half human for him to have granted her a seed of Idunn to have her be made.”

"Didn't they tell you in the hospital that Aria was conceived later than Toby?" Kol wondered.

"They did," Elijah confirmed softly.

“Would I have always been a half vampire if Loki didn’t just make me one?” Aria said quietly.

“Yes,” Thor bowed his head to her. “But the teeth… they may never have shown, if they hadn’t already.”

“And the eyes,” Toby said sleepily. “I like it, Ari. And besides, you always wanted to be like Hope.”

“I guess,” Aria muttered, and tightened knees and arms on Elijah. “Daddy is this done now? I’m so hungry.”

And _everything_ made sense.

Her inconsolable tempers, her distaste for certain flavors, her ever present ‘ _I’m hungry’_. Hadn’t she been the perfect baby, when he had been feeding her blood by the day to make sure she breathed whole and well? Wasn’t she kept so sweet and mild? She had been suffering with a vampire’s mood and desperate hunger all her life, and no one had seen it beyond tantrums.

“Ah,” said Klaus, like he’d thought much the same.

“My poor baby,” Elijah said softly, and hooked his chin over her shoulder in lieu of being able to hold her more tightly. “My precious girl.”

“I’m fine,” she said, clinging to him tightly. “I’m just hungry.”

He leaned back to inspect her new face – the veins in her eyes were not as raised, like a true vampire’s, but they were darker. Fanning from behind her lashes like a spider’s web, the black lines faded into sharp points just beyond the rise of her cheek bone. There was no color in her iris, only black.

She was terrifying to behold. He loved her so much more.

“Show me your fangs,” he urged.

She lifted her upper lip with a thumb.

“Loki pushed ‘em out,” she grumbled. “It hurt.”

“It won’t always,” he promised. Both canines were sharpened like a vampires’, and the two teeth beside the ones first and foremost were sharp, just like his. She let her lip drop and waited for his verdict. “You’ve always been perfect, princess. This makes no difference to me.”

She fiddled absently with his tie.

“Momma’s gonna flip,” she said sheepishly.

“Your mother will feel better for having you back with her, regardless of the capacity,” he assured her, and gave her cheek a kiss. “Let’s go get some food, hm?”

“Sleep,” Toby said without so much as lifting his head. “I’m tired, Daddy.”

“I adore them,” Sif said once more.

“May we grant a blessing?” Thor rumbled. “My gift can only extend to the child of my own meddling, but since my brother has palmed off his own, perhaps my wife can grant her a totem of her own?”

“If Aries has, I can certainly,” she said mildly. “Little one are you very fond of creatures big and small?”

She blinked, and looked at her with her entirely black eyes.

“Uhm,” she said uneasily. “Yeah... I like bugs.”

“Glorious child," Sif said happily, clasping her hands under her chin. "I do so want a horde of you. I only need to enchant an item, and I will give you a gift indeed!”

“I have this?” Aria suggested, unearthing the scrying string her uncle Kol had given her before she was even born from around her neck. She held it proudly in her fist, the pretty vine-like wire and small beetles tinkling with the sway of her movement. “My uncle always said if I needed to go on the run to take it and I could sell it for money.”

Kol whistled innocently, and Klaus punched him hard in the arm, much to Thor’s amusement.

Sif let go of her husband’s arm to move across the earth, eyes fixed on the length of it. She reached out to delicately touch the little bugs, then moved the very tip of her forefinger across the child’s sleeve, which bore a bright red lady bug.

"You like the crawlies," the goddess said, almost in awe. 

“Uh huh. And spiders,” Aria amended. “I like bugs and spiders. But spiders aren’t bugs, they're arachnids. Basically, if a bird tries to eat it, it’s my favorite."

"Even worms," Toby piped up.

"Truly?" Sif beamed.

Aria tried not to squirm under that single, pleased attention. It was not often that people liked her talking about bugs, or when she showed them the things she was keeping in the containers; her mother did not tolerate anything bigger than her fingernail. She said it was cruel, but Aria felt protective of the small invertebrates and delicate things, and always looked after them well. For her last birthday, her father had gifted her a hot house to keep butterflies. Every second she spent inside it had been magical to her the same way that Toby's fires were.

"I like them better'n any one I know,” she said honestly. "It's like magic, to me."

“She punched a kid in the balls once because he stood on a bee on purpose,” Toby supplied. "And then the bee died and she nearly made him eat it."

Elijah pursed his lips.

“ _Aria._ ”

“What? His little wing was busted. I was taking him somewhere safe to get Toby to come fix it, and then he squashed it! It got out of a bird’s mouth to what? Get stood on and eaten any way?” She scowled. It was moderately terrifying when coupled with her new vampire eyes and sharpened teeth. “He had it coming.”

“So impassioned,” soothed the goddess, touching the girl’s frown lines. As before, they went away, bleeding into unmarred skin. The veins and black eyes went away, and Aria’s hand went to her mouth to feel the fangs recede. “Adorable. Husband, I want twenty.”

“We’ll need a millennia to raise them all,” Thor said easily.

“I don’t care,” the goddess replied. She touched the diamond with the tip of her finger, and made it glow with soft light, before smiling on the mesmerized child. "I adore you. You need only hold it when you are in desperate need, warrior of the small, and the small will come to protect you."

Aria cracked a grin.

"Thanks Mrs Sif."

"It is an honor and a joy," the goddess said warmly, before looking at Toby. She tilted her head, mouth in a warm smile. “Sweet sleepy one. You ring so loudly of the energy in my dearest love. May I hold you?”

Elijah didn’t immediately reply, which was a step up from flat refusal or threats of death.

“I might be too big for you, lady Sif,” Toby said diplomatically, still cuddled under his father’s chin.

“A wise one born from _my_ meddling?” Thor mused, striding closer. “I have never heard such a thing. They usually end up a touch more like _her_.” He nodded to Aria, who took it as a compliment and preened with the glittering diamond trapped in her fist. The big god hoisted Toby off of Elijah’s hip to have him dwarfed by comparison, supporting under his legs with one meaty forearm.

“She was only born by the fact you had meddled. Loki never would've been able to have her hosted if not for you,” reasoned Sif. She smiled at the boy, leaning her head to her husband’s arm, stroking the shape of his nose with careful fingertips. She bit her lip. “He already has such magic. What else can you grant him?”

“That depends." Thor tipped his head to look at Toby, who was sort of hanging on for the ride. “How do you best like to fight, child?”

He cast a look at his father, who was now holding Aria with two arms, glowering at the god with heated blotches in his cheeks, but not saying anything.

“Uh, I’m not good at swords,” Toby offered in a small voice. “I - am not good at fighting. I get - I'm, uh, I'm not like that.”

“There is the ability for greatness in you,” Thor informed him surely. "That does not promise destruction."

"What will you do to Mike?" Aria prompted. "He killed uncle Jeremy's dog."

"Who kills a dog?" Toby said sadly. 

"He also stole away with your sister," Elijah said gently. "And he has momma."

“Fire,” was the first thing out of Toby's mouth. His little mouth settled in an uncharacteristic frown. "I'm gonna set him on fire."

“Fire,” Sif repeated, amused. “One who is firey of soul and loves many little creatures, and one who is placid and could destroy with a swipe of his arm.”

“I have no real boon to give concerning flame,” Thor mentioned thoughtfully. “It isn’t my domain. But I have something similar in way of nature that will suit you all the same. It is more... flexible, than mere fire.”

“Uh,” he said. He looked at his father, who merely shrugged. “Sure?”

“It would be an honor,” Elijah said softly, watching his son.

“Granted, young Tobias,” Thor promised. “The power in me is now the same as the power in you.”

"Anticlimactic," Aria muttered.

“Thank you,” Toby said. “It sounds... cool.” 

“Verily,” Thor said easily. He boosted the child up into both hands, holding him out easily. He blinked and Toby jolted as though shocked.

The puff of surprised air that fell out of his mouth sparked. He blinked, then started to grin, long and slow, mirrored by the god. A flash of blue light lit the inside of his eyeballs to blank them out for a second, and then he let out a truly mad little giggle.

“Look there,” Sif mentioned to her husband, reaching out to cup Toby’s cheek. “There in him, I see your meddling. Well done, my love.”

Klaus took the dangling boy in respectful a manner as he could, keeping him bundled up as he backed up to stand by Elijah.

The Aesir observed this with a small manner of amusement, then looked at each other.

“We have our own to make,” she said silkily, stroking his bicep.

“Have fun,” Thor told the children cheerfully, sticking his hand out. “Aria Mikealson. Tobias Mikealson.”

“Good manners,” Aria approved, leaning out of Elijah’s arm to strike a firm handshake. “Bye Mister Thor, god of thunder and babies.”

“You're right,” the thunderer said. He scooped up his wife and gazed down at her. “I want ours to be like them.”

“I’m telling you,” Kol said. “You’d be wise to borrow those ones first.”

“Perhaps we shall, once the ugly business with your father is said and done,” Sif said simply, and kissed her fingers, twinkling them at the kids. “Farewell.”

There was a flash of gold light and a blur of melted ice, and the gods were gone.


	39. Round 2

Elena woke with the bliss of blood in her mouth. It was like waking from a deep sleep – she hadn’t felt so rested in ages. But the dream-like quality of the blood in her mouth was almost unfathomable… It tasted of many more things than just blood.

She understood the excitement of an impending chase, the heat of low simmering arousal, and the pulse of a heart that wasn’t hers echoing in the hollow points of her new teeth. She sucked and felt pleasurable stars burst on the back of her head, making her bow to the small petting affection from Mikeal’s wide hand.

Every nerve sung with attention. She had never opened her eyes but did so lazily, seeing the dark room in new violet tones. Even the dust looked like glitter. The moonlight, to human eyes had been a shade too dark to make the world visible, but to these new eyes, it was illuminating everything like strategic paint strokes. Every leaf, every ripple on the water, all glowing and magical.

“Easy,” he instructed her softly. His throat was right by her ear and the vibration from his voice made her cringe, reach up and clamp her hands over her ears. He dragged his wrist away from her mouth, regardless of the teeth still dug into his skin, and petted her hair while she caught her breath. “There we are, now.”

She gasped, eyes open wide, looking at everything. It was all so much.

The love she felt for her children – for Elijah – and the rest of her little family, it all swept through her chest. She had to get out of this safely. She had to see them again. Make sure they were alright.

Desperate, she scrambled across the room and fell into a heap as her body moved much faster than it was used to moving. She had transitioned, and the new abilities in her did not go unnoticed. Shaking, she looked at her hands like they were new to her, back and front, then over at Mikeal, leaning his back to a wall, watching her.

“Why?” she whispered.

He didn’t say anything for a long time, just propped up his knees to rest his forearms on them. Beside him was an empty blood bag from the hospital, and just seeing the remnants inside it made her stomach growl with ravenous hunger.

“You mentioned a lesson my son imparted with you,” he said softly. “To understand your enemies, and to undermine what they wanted. Where do you think he learned that from?”

Tears lined her lashes, and she shook.

“You.”

“Me,” he agreed. His mouth curled into a smile, but it was not happy. “It was always my idea to undo an enemy at his weakest points, and though I am at loathe to say it, the bastard has very few. He has a child, but I am not monster enough to destroy the chit. The only other way to hurt him was to make miserable the people around him; so yes, I'll start with you."

"Why?" she whispered. "I mean- I'm n-nothing, to Klaus-"

"You are," he said dryly. "You mean a great deal to him, if he has not gone after your cursed blood in all the years you've known him and been near to him."

"No," she croaked.

"But more over," he went on pointedly. "You mean quite a great deal to the ones he loves most. My grandchildren, and Elijah. Making you miserable and suffer the hands of this insidious curse will pain them all in ways you will grow to understand with time. The erosion of who you are in favor of blood lust, and violence, will make his survival a punishment to which he is the catalyst."

"Aries made you hateful because I used the medallion on you," she said urgently. "You've only ever hated Klaus because of some other god's interfering!"

"Even if that were true," he said patiently. "You understand the bond between parent and child now, Elena. You felt a glimpse of the pain in the threat of losing your daughter, but I lost mine."

"Freya," Elena whispered.

Mikeal's face was far away, but the lines near his eyes were tight with misery and pain.

"My Freya was taken from me," he muttered. "She was sweet. Innocent. I adored her very breath, and yet she was stolen away from me under the guise of death, and I never so much as got to see her through to the afterlife."

Hot tears poured from her shut eyes. These emotions were choking her. When Aria had been missing? When her little girl had been scared, and stolen? There had been no price on earth she wouldn't have paid to have made her safe. But to learn that she had died? To have it be a lie?

"I-" she croaked. "Mikeal - I- I'm sorry you... I'm sorry that happened to you. I could never-... I could never survive the-... My heart would break."

"Even if it did," he said bitterly, flicking a hard look at her. "You would not die. Broken hearts do not kill our kind. We are death, and our hearts no longer work as they should. Abominations designed to suffer in cold and hatred."

"No-" she wept.

"We the evil," he persisted. "Violent. Selfish. We the created, dark, unwelcome, dead and hungry. And we suffer the price of this unnatural life with all the pain of a dead heart."

"There is good in everybody," she tried.

"But not in the hybrid scum!" he hissed. His shoulders stiffened, and only his mouth moved to spew hateful words between them. The stillness was unsettling - like a big cat waiting to pounce. "For all he had his own spawn! For all he suffered as a child! He had my Freya living in that house under his pathetic rule. You cannot deny he treats her as a slave-!"

"He does not-"

"In my lingering, I have seen more than you ever dare," he said lowly. "And not through the lens you view him. I have seen her, doing his bidding just to earn a fraction of his good graces. She deserves better. She has only a human lifespan – she cannot spend it at his beck and call. So I have turned you to spite him.”

“...I don't understand," she said on a breath. When she blinked, tears beaded and fell to plop against her lap. "You made me because... Freya lives with Klaus?"

“Two birds,” he said, dispassionately. “One stone. They can try and kill me, if they’d like to kill you too. Or they can give my daughter to me, that I can finally look after her, the way I should’ve when she was small and lovely.”

"They won't kill you," Elena realized. "Because they will kill me."

"Anticipation," he drawled, followed by an awful sneer. "I dare to suggest my son did not verse you well in the methods of _Execution_ , did he? The more vicious a method, the quieter the attack. The barbarians ran and screamed and were slaughtered. Those of us who were truly dangers never needed to make such a racket. You would know a little about that, wouldn't you, _Tatia_?"

Elena put her hands over her face. She was rushed with emotions – love and rage and fear and hope – and everything was too much to bare.

Her babies. She couldn’t get Aria’s tiny limp body out of her mind’s eye.

She felt her teeth click out into her mouth and suddenly she had launched across the room to try and pummel her fists on Mikeal’s face, but he was not where her body was flung. She crashed into the wall and flipped her hair back, easing up onto all fours.

He tutted.

“Brawling was never your strong suit,” he told her flatly.

“I’m going to kill you,” she promised him vehemently.

“Do it,” he said. “And then you kill yourself, and you miss out on the babies you so desperately love.”

She whirled and threw herself at him again. He didn’t move this time, but backhanded her clean into the window, sending her flying out of it in a spray of shattered glass. Sharp ends tore at her arms and the back of her head, but everything else was pretty unscathed. She hit the ground and rolled at the momentum, the breath shoved rudely out of her lungs.

“I don’t want to fight you, girl,” he said, already waiting for her to find her breath and get up. “I want to chase you. I want to test you. Run from me now, and we shall see who would win in a fair fight.”

“Fair?” she wheezed.

She pushed up, hovering, and managed to get her knee under her before she flopped onto the ground again. Her head was spinning – concussed, her surgeon brain supplied. As she focused on her breathing, she felt the singing of her torn skin go back together. Having studied medicine for as long as she had, she was fascinated by the wounds closing, and watched the back of her arm shut to the elements.

“Go on,” he taunted. “Run. You gave yourself a single minute head start, when we were human. I’ll adjust for the change in your nature. I’ll give you five.”

“I’m not running,” she told him sternly, and rolled onto her backside, planting her hands in the dirt. She found the edge of a hard root, and tried to discreetly curl her fingers around it. _Distract him_ , said a voice in her head that sounded a lot like Katherine’s. “You can’t make me run, Mikeal.”

“Yes I can,” he cooed. “I can compel you now.”

“Do it,” she prodded him. “Cheapen the game. You’ll spend the next hour still wondering who would win.”

“The next hour?” he mused. “Don’t sell yourself short, now.”

“Well,” she said with a cocky tilt of her head. “It seemed a little dark to say ‘ _the rest of your life’_.”

She whipped out the root and threw it, broken end at him. He caught it an inch away from his eye, and then grunted when she spear tackled him, shoving her shoulder into his solar plexus.

He tossed her up and over his head, sending her body flying uselessly in the air. She crashed through the dilapidated roof and fell onto the old tent, her breath stolen once more. She tried to breathe in vain. There was a roof shingle sticking out of the meaty part of her thigh and she wrenched it out, choking on a noise of distress.

She scrambled with the bloodied limb dragging behind her, hands struggling to find purchase in the slippery plastic of the tent. One palm rolled over something and she frowned at the cheap pole, the kind with string inside and springs on either end to create the structure to make the tent stand.

An idea popped into her head.

“You will run,” Mikeal demanded, strolling over to the hole in the window. “Because if you don’t, I will continue to toss you around like a little toy, and you will only be hurt by it. Imagine your dear husband coming to see you in such a state. The distress he would feel.”

Elena put the tent stick down.

Anticipate.

Annihilate.

What was that other thing?

“Elijah isn’t my husband,” she wheezed.

“Do you think signing a piece of paper makes a man yours?” he drawled. “Just because there hasn’t been a formal ceremony, doesn’t make him any less your husband. The same way you are any less his wife.”

She looked at the hole in her leg and saw it was nearly shut. She screwed up her face and dragged herself back to the wall, leaning against it gratefully.

She cracked open her eyes to watch Mikeal watching her, hands in his pockets, bright eyes locked on her. She reached up and scooped her hair from her eyes, locking it at the top of her head in a perfected messy mom-bun. Then she toed off her shoes, and unbuttoned her jeans.

“And after all these years,” he mused. “I was convinced your love for my son was true.”

“I don’t think you know what real love looks like,” she said dryly, and wiggled the jeans off, using the hem to wipe the blood off her thigh and then the backs of her arms. Even though the wounds had been superficial, they had stained her shirt with cool blood. She grimaced, then pulled it off over her head, reaching down to pull her sneakers back on.

“Must you always undress to have me chase you?” he said, miffed.

“That’s how Elijah likes it,” she drawled. It was a grade A Klaus impression, and it made him scowl. She tugged the laces of her shoes tight, and was passingly grateful for the solid black bra and panty set. She had often gone to bed without one or the other. It could’ve been worse. “That’s how we used to play in the woods.”

“A wonder you weren’t pregnant earlier,” he said, trying very hard to sound disinterested.

“I was on birth control,” she supplied.

“I heard,” he said dryly. “I’ve been hovering around you for much longer than you realize. The second you left Mystic Falls, I was with you. I had no idea you were with child, but then you called my son, and piqued my curiosity. I harassed your brother then to get my medallion from his house, to come and claim my grandchildren, but he cast me out.”

“You were on his case way before I was ever sent back,” she said, and frowned at him, tying her final lace. “Why?”

“He was the only person that saw me,” he said simply. “Even psychics could only detect my presence. I never understood what about your brother made me seen only to him – he never saw another spirit.”

That was interesting, but Elena didn’t really have time for decoding why. She hugged her knees for a second, then tightened her bun and eased to her feet, taking the time to swipe her hand over the back of her arm and then wipe the blood on the wall with a grimace. All her wounds were healed. She could see clear as day. It was time.

A plan was in her mind.

“Five minutes, and you don’t look where I go,” she said simply.

“I was never going to look,” he said with a smile. He checked his watch. “Are you ready?”

“Are you?” she asked him sweetly.

He cast a look up at her from under his lashes, his gaze travelling the length of her body. It was significantly more skin than she’d ever presented to him before, and the urge to hide her imperfections was strong. She put her fists by her sides and kept them there, tilting her head at him again.

“Did you spy on us a lot?” she wondered. “Elijah and I?”

“There are some things a father does not need to see of his child,” he scolded. “His lovemaking is one of them.”

“I never know with you,” she pointed out. “You hated Klaus so much for no reason at all. And you were jealous of Elijah.”

“I was jealous of all the men who put their hands on you,” he said. “But that was then. Now you’re the mother of my grandchildren, and you may not believe me, but I did not peek on you so much as in the shower. As pretty as you are, I don’t quite lust for you the same way I did as a mortal man.”

“Uh huh,” she said, completely flat. She’d had his blood in her mouth minutes before, and he thought she couldn’t decipher the taste of arousal? Who was he kidding?

“Your nakedness,” he rephrased. “Will not distract me this time.”

“Taking my clothes off wasn’t about distraction,” she said mildly. “It was about not leaving a blood trail to scent.”

His smile was slow. So he really did want to play the game, then? _Fine._ She was out of practice, but the urge in her to one-up him with his own game was stronger than her urge to punch that smug look off his jaw. But only by a hair.

“How do I win?” she said abruptly.

“You escape the forest,” he said easily.

“And what happens if I do that?”

“Then you win.” His gaze was not kind, piercing through her the way it did. “I had thought it was rather simple. You’ll go back to your loved ones.”

 _So they can discover I’m a vampire and put off killing you_ , she thought. It had been a great play on his behalf, honestly. But there were still ways to put him down without killing him- desiccation sounded good.

“And if you win?” she hastened to add.

The fear of his answer made her stomach churn. She wasn’t sure why, but whatever he saw on her face made him soften a touch. He shifted as though uncomfortable, and she remembered – he hadn’t liked her pushing him away. He hadn’t liked her not wanting him back. He had said something in his old timey way about not liking kissing her when it felt like she wasn’t willing.

“Then I catch you, and I know I was right,” he said firmly. “I’ll bring you back here. You will dress, and we will wait for the rest of the family to decide their course.”

She knew he was telling the truth. He was noble in his own way, and hearing him confirm that he wouldn’t do something more nefarious made her breathe a little easier.

She nodded to his watch.

“Five minutes,” she said.

“Five minutes,” he agreed, and pressed the face to time it. “Go.”

* * *

This time was not like last time. There was so much new information being processed by her body that by the time she had any thoughts, it all sounded like noise. But she had a plan, and to implement that plan she needed to get back in the house that he was waiting in, counting her minutes.

The problem was, he was an advanced tracker, and accomplished hunter, on top of being physically faster and stronger than her. No matter her new abilities, his would always reign supreme.

That being said, he was not used to chasing someone who planned to run back into him.

So.

She took off, flexing those new vampire muscles. She counted the seconds as her feet beat into the earth, tossing dirt left right and center. She topped out her speed in a spurt of energy and then skidded to a halt, jumping up to pull herself into a tree. She was very, very careful to lay the trail just subtly enough that he would go out south from the front door of the cabin, and then if he dared look up, would see the branches broken in the east.

She dropped down thirty seconds after – 1:30 already! – and skipped back onto the trail she had left. Carefully, her pulse banging, she retraced her steps, counting the time always, sweating and making sure to leave evidence that she had run the opposite way.

When she got to 2:45, she saw the house rising from the distance, and pulled herself back up into the trees. Her crossing the dense forest tops would’ve been described as leisurely, if it wasn’t so jerky. She moved slowly to make it quiet, but nothing could stop the bang of her heart.

3:45 saw her at the edge of the water, in the thick smelly mud. She slid her shoes in it rather than stepped, hyper conscious that any amount of sludgy noise would be heard at her distance and probably understood as her trying to be sly.

It was 4:26 when her knees were submerged.

4:56 when she was up to her shoulders.

From inside, she heard him straightening, his spine popping and neck cracking.

“Ready or not,” he murmured.

She ducked her head under, shutting her eyes against the grimy film, and heard the earth like a heartbeat when took off into the woods.

Elena forced herself to be slow. She didn’t have much time – less than a handful of minutes, she was pretty sure – but if she wanted to have her cake and eat it too, she needed to do it right. There was so much fear in her chest, but no room for a foul up.

If it had taken her a minute to run a trail, it would take him less. She pulled herself up out of the water on the back verandah and went back into the little living area, going quickly to assemble the tent poles. She hadn’t ever built a bow, but she had understood them pretty well – and this one was spring loaded, threaded cord through the hollow posts. Vampire speed made it assembled in the time it took for her to hear Mikeal cursing in the distance; he’d come to the end of her foot trail.

She pulled out the cord to hold by her ear and thought it was pretty neat for a suburban momma who hadn’t held a weapon in (technically) a thousand years.

Now for a projectile.

Two tent poles remained, but both were bent. It would throw off the aim. She took them anyway, and crept back out of the house, winding the make-shift bow around her body. She lowered carefully into the water and pushed off, keeping her ears above the water to make sure she could hear Mikeal if he doubled back.

It was beginning to push it, what she could understand audibly, against the quiet lapping of waves moving against her skin. And maybe she’d enjoy it more with the sun high in the sky, and her kids and Hope laughing and playing.

Elijah would be in his little black shorts from the fifties that she liked, the pair with the white belt. Freya could make that fetta and pumpkin salad that always tasted better when she did it. Klaus would’ve been painting, then stripped to his boxers to come and annoy the kids, sneaking up beneath their floaties like a shark; he’d have them shrieking with laughter at his approach, humming a serious Jaws theme song under his breath as he went. Beautiful Davina and devilish Kol, always the most in love, sharing a single sunbed.

Her family. God. They were what she thought about when she was running for her life from their deranged father.

She bit back a sob and managed to clear the lake, being careful when she got out of the water to make as little noise as possible. Even while she moved, she was searching for something to put in her bow and shoot off at the Original that chased her.

But there was no deus ex machina. No perfectly whittled branch. No forgotten arrows, perfectly fletched and left behind. Nothing sharp to fix to the end of her tent posts, and launch into Mikeal’s eye.

She moved deeper into the woods, Elijah’s voice ringing in her ear from a long time ago: _The water was a good choice._

Well, that was the only good idea she had, because now she had a shitty bow and no arrows. Now what?

What had Elijah taught her…?

Determination. Well, _yeah,_ she was going to make it out of this. She had to. It was imperative that she saw her babies again. And if she could just, _kill Mikeal_ , once, it would break the compulsion he had over her sleeping daughter.

Anticipation. He wanted to catch her, and take her back to the lake house she had just come from. So he wanted to catch her… so she was her own bait. And that was fine. But she needed some trap to lure him in, with that kind of reasoning.

Annihilation. How could she kill him? She could snap his neck – he’d done it to her. Elijah had slapped the actual head off of someone that one time, though, so the power in his hands… If she fought him, would he still be cordial? Or would he hurt her?

 _It doesn’t matter if he hurts you_ , she scolded herself. _You heal now_. _You have to kill him to free Ari._

But how?

A pointy stick in the heart would do it. The forest was all sticks. Making one pointy wouldn’t be hard unless Mikeal saw it coming.

So he just needed to be distracted.

 _Let your enemy perceive their victory before it is truly theirs_ , said Elijah, with his long hair and leather trousers. He’d used her target as her own bait; left the flag to be captured, and waited for her to find it, rather than him to find her.

He was superior to fight her, so if stabbing him was the way to go, she’d need to be smart about it. The long distance between the bow and her hand was all the advantage she could have over him in terms of a fight. But he wasn’t distracted by her boobs anymore! What could she do?!

“Clever girl,” she heard in the distance. She turned with wide eyes to where she was suddenly frozen, but he was nowhere near the lake. She strained her ears and heard him amongst the trees, pulling in air deep through his nose. He was only now just looking upward?

Maybe she’d over estimated him… or he’d underestimated her.

Wait.

She could hear him… all the way over there…?

His voice, when it had been close, had made her eardrums bang. Noise to a vampire was… pretty … distracting.

To test his hearing and what she was working with, she hastened to affix the tent post into her bow and aimed at a nearby tree. It bounced to the floor without so much as dinging the wood, and she heard Mikeal stop when the hollow pole dropped to the ground. She didn’t move, poised as a huntress, eyes in his direction.

The sudden crashing through the trees made her heart pitter patter like a fish out of water. He was coming toward her, full tilt, so she guessed he had exceptional hearing.

And the instinct in her was to run… so she dropped the bow by the lakeside, and _bolted_.

The splash of water at his heavy weight made her run just a little faster. It didn’t matter about noise or discretion, just the distance she could put between them for a hot minute. It was only an idea, but it was all she had, and she needed it to work, needed to see her babies again. Needed to be with Elijah, and hold him, and tell them all she loved and forgave them, before they used the medallion and killed Mikeal…

Right up until _that fucking boulder_ …

The one that lead to the Falls. Where she had cursed him before diving head first into it, where she’d started this game a thousand years ago. She stepped up and over it, running hard, her sneakers skidding against rocks when she stood by the edge of the churning of so many liters of water being spilled like white vomit.

It was not as vicious as it had been back in the day. By night, it looked kind of lovely. It still roared with noise, and she cringed, putting her hands over her ears. She was so overwhelmed by it, she fell to one knee, squeezing her eyes shut against too much information.

She whimpered and felt the thud of Mikeal’s feet change direction, coming closer to her now.

But even at his approach, she didn’t move. She stayed bent, hands clutched over her ears, and eyes shut tight.

He touched the top of her head, smoothing wet hair away from her shoulder to lay his palm there as though consoling her.

“It’s so loud,” she said weakly.

“Yes,” he said, and the tone of his voice was so vindicated.

“You cheated,” she accused, shrugging off the hand. “Everything hurts. You _cheated_. I can’t think with all of this – _noise_ -“

“Walk,” he suggested.

She hammed it up by attempting to fling herself into the rapids. She nearly made it, leaping out for the wide expanse of the water below her. She wasn’t actually sure what purpose it might serve if she hadn’t anticipated his speed correctly, and let her fall. She was mid-air when he snatched her back, and her hands went back over her ears, though she tried to struggle away.

“You _cheated_ ,” she said, sounding rightly devastated.

“You started it,” he muttered, and hauled her up like a bride.

For about half a minute, she played it up. The roaring from the Falls was – _very loud_ – but not loud enough to cripple her like she was making out it had. She cracked open an eye and then rolled out of his carry, landing on hands and knees with a thud.

“If you fight me now, girl, I’ll hurt you. Be still, be carried, and let me have my win,” he said firmly.

“No,” she said bitterly, hands scrunching the dirt. There was nothing there to throw. God fucking damnit. All these trees, and not one stupid branch!?

“Do you think I won’t drag you by the hair?” he threatened. “It will hurt all the nerves in your skin, if I do that. If you won’t be _carried_ , you will _walk_. Decide.”

She made an exaggerated attempt to run, when he caught her hair and yanked her back the way she came. Her neck cracked with whiplash – the muscles going stiff. She cried out and fell to the ground, hands over her nape, knees pulled up to her chest.

“Carried it is,” he said flatly.

“Please,” she simpered, eyes open and searching beyond herself. She saw what she needed. She just needed him to be distracted. “Don’t hurt me.”

He sighed.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Elena-“

The branch went in angled upward, between his lower true sixth rib and his seventh false rib, puncturing his lung to bypass his sternum and wedge directly into his heart.

She wanted to spit something about wanting to hurt him into his face, but she hadn’t, not really. This game between them wasn’t about pain – it was about prestige. She didn’t feel great about the spurt of hot blood on her hands, or the twist she gave the branch to earn his wheeze of pain.

She watched the veins climb into his neck and face, and let him drop to the ground, dead.

Her breath was shaky as it exited her lungs.

Now he was dead, she had a little time. She took his jeans – thankfully Mikeal wore underwear, because the thought of having to see his grey and veiny bits was truly very upsetting - the belt cinched tight enough that they hung on to her hips, and they were wet from his swim to stay where she put them.

She peeled off his wet jumper and it got wrung out before she pulled it on as she got up and began to jog back to her house. Hopefully someone would be there. She wasn’t sure how long it would take to Mikeal to wake up, but she needed to preface her conversation with Elijah before he flipped his lid and wondered where her clothes were.

Honestly if she had to explain flirting with his father _one more time_ , she’d lose her mind.


	40. Drying Out

Aria was sipping the blood bag through a straw, legs swinging. She was watching to see if anyone was judging her. Elijah had been very careful to make sure that all the vampires present had blood in some capacity to make her feel more at ease. Only Jeremy went without, and his girlfriend stayed upstairs, bemoaning the dead dog.

Tobias, dead asleep on his thigh, was none the wiser.

“So,” said Stefan. He had not taken his eyes off of either child since Jeremy had mentioned to whom they belonged. “You’re… Elena’s daughter?”

Aria nodded, still sipping. She folded her legs into a pretzel, one hand absently drifting to the scrying throng that had become a totem from a goddess. His little girl, gods’ blessed. He could’ve cried from joy, or fear.

Stefan looked at Toby, and Elijah sipped delicately at the glass topped with blood, watching him catalog the familiarity in his features. Aria was much more her mother to look at, but Tobias had her temperament. He also drooled in his sleep, and was beginning to in a puddle on Italian made slacks.

“And that…” Stefan said. “Is her son?”

“They’re our children, yes,” Elijah said coolly. He stroked back Toby’s infernal cowlick, then tried to brush it down sideward. Sometimes it worked. Tonight was not one of those times. “Now you understand why she left you, truly.”

“Uh.” He rubbed his temple with his free hand, setting the glass of blood aside. He had brought over the box of gifted blood without much prompting, which was kind of him. But his lingering presence was not required, though understood. “No, not really.”

“You don’t like my dad,” Aria told him. Blood lined her lips and she licked it without thinking, blinking huge black eyes at him like an innocent little doll. Elijah felt his heart swell to see her so still, less agitated, then she had been in years. “So you would’ve used me and my brother to get back at him.”

“I don’t have a problem with your dad,” Stefan told her quietly. “And I loved your mom.”

“That’s weird,” she said, and sucked at the straw.

“Aria,” Elijah said softly. “Mr. Salvatore is an old friend of your mother’s. She wouldn’t like you to be cross with him.”

“One, I’m not cross, two, Mr. Salvatore is an old _boy_ friend, and three, momma isn’t here, so she won't know unless you tell her,” she said pointedly, earning both her uncle’s laughs. Uncle Jeremy did not laugh, and he didn’t even crack a smile.

“You’re still grounded,” he reminded her.

“Oh,” she said, and scrunched up her nose. Elijah saw Stefan twitch from the corner of his eye to recognize that look from her mother. “Sorry.”

He didn’t accept it. She wasn’t truly sorry.

She sucked the last dregs of the blood and reached up to rub her fist against her eye. She was so fucking cute.

“It’s okay,” Stefan said, when Elijah didn’t reply.

In Italian, Elijah offered his advice:

“ _Don’t let the pout fool you_ ,” he murmured.

“ _She’s only little_ ,” Stefan muttered in the foreign tongue.

“ _She knows what she’s doing_ ,” Klaus said with glee.

“ _She has to learn not to be so rude_ ,” Elijah said simply. “ _I’ll allow attitude, but I won’t abide rudeness._ ”

“ _I will_ ,” Kol cooed, and cracked a grin at his niece. “ _She’s so fucking cute when she’s sassy._ “

“ _I know,”_ Elijah lamented with a sigh. “ _I know she is_.”

“Do they always do this?” Jeremy asked the child.

“All the time,” she shrugged.

“Sorry,” Stefan said, slowly easing into the comfy couch across from her. “I… it’s still, uh, processing. Do you know what that means?”

Elijah had the uncomfortable realization that if she wasn’t full of blood, her answer would’ve been a lot sharper than:

“I’m seven, not an idiot, Mr. Salvatore.”

Klaus snickered.

“Hellion,” he teased.

She beamed up at her uncle like she knew exactly how delicious her abhorrent behavior was, and licked her lips, glancing at the blood in his own glass. He nursed it to his chest protectively, grinning at her like a fool.

“This is the adult version, I’m afraid,” he said simply. “Have the rest in the box.”

“Where’s that?” she pouted.

“Young Mr. Salvatore left them by the door,” he nodded to it.

She heaved up out of the chair to put her empty bag in the bin in the kitchen, yawning hugely, the diamond on her chest swinging side to side, she padded barefoot to the hall and opened the cooler.

“I just…” Stefan said roughly. “I thought… I heard their hearts, when she was, you know. Here last. But I think… I think my brain just wouldn’t…”

“I couldn’t fathom it either,” Elijah admitted. “Even though I knew she wasn’t lying. It took weeks to- what was it you said? Process?”

Stefan nodded, and opened his mouth to speak, when he was cut off by a childish shriek.

“MOMMA!”

“ _Stay inside_ -!” Elena hissed, but Aria didn’t listen. She dove through the front door at her mother and was caught in a fantastic hug, her arms and legs wrapped around her mother tight.

Elijah substituted his thigh for a pillow under Toby’s head, and nearly squashed his daughter to embrace his lover around her.

“Elena,” he exhaled, and kissed the side of her face.

“Get her inside, I don’t have much time,” she urged, pushing Aria off to him, but Aria wouldn’t be moved.

“Where are you going?” he demanded. “Why aren’t you coming-?”

“Elijah, _time_ ,” she stressed. “I need to talk to you privately, and I don’t have-… Stefan?”

The Salvatore stood with his mouth popped open. He just looked at her, and Elijah read his heart break, but also his understanding. His eyes, soulful always, went to the clutch of her filthy hands on his own shoulders, the child crushed between them. He understood the love there, Elijah knew he did. It made something about his shoulders release tension, and he nodded as though to himself.

“TOBY!” Aria shouted to break the mood. “MOMMA’S HERE!”

“ _No,_ ” Elena said weakly, but at the sight of her son her expression dimpled and she knelt to receive him, already bawling, attempting to hug the actual life out of her. She didn’t even bend against his weight, like she usually did, she just hugged him back fiercely, and stood to put her other arm around Aria, kissing both their heads before Elijah fully on the mouth.

“What happened?” he pressed. “Where is Mikeal?”

She sobbed against his chin and ducked to hide under it, hugging her babies, basking in his scent.

He kissed her wet hair and inhaled deep through his nose. He detected Mikeal in the clothes that weren’t hers, mud and fresh water – he took another hit off the gland by her ear and then straightened as though he’d been stabbed to look her in the face.

She was waiting, eyes flooding with tears.

“Niklaus,” he said evenly. “Brother. Could you hold the children?”

“Here,” said Jeremy. He pushed past Stefan to collect Toby, who was beyond reason, wailing with heart wrenching sobs. “Hey, uh, let’s – I have some video games upstairs. Let’s go play.”

“I want – my – mom-m-mma – “

“Yeah, she’s okay,” Jeremy said, boosting him unfamiliarly on his hip. “Woah, you’re _heavy_. She’s okay, uh, Toby. She’s always okay, alright? Trust me. Let’s… I’ll show you my room. Do you like dinosaurs? I have a Jurassic Park game,” he tried, and climbed the stairs with the kid still bawling, though beginning to soothe.

“No,” said Aria flatly. “No, I’m not going, I’m _not_ -“

Elijah didn’t argue with her. He just passed her to Klaus and expected a full tilt tantrum; she burst into tears instead. How blood changed her torrential moods.

“We’ll just be a minute,” Elena said, choked with emotion. “Baby just a minute. I just need to speak to daddy real quick, okay?”

She stepped back and Elijah shut the door between Klaus' narrowed eyes and the armful of crying child. They looked at each other for a moment and then smashed together, hugging tight. He inhaled by her ear and smelt Mikeal anew – but beyond it, the notes of vampire written in her blood.

“Have you transitioned?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she whispered. 

He shut his eyes.

“We can’t kill him,” he realized.

“We can,” she said. “If I say goodbye first, we can.”

“No,” he said, and he heard the petulance of his daughter in his voice. “ _No_. We can’t kill him now. I will not lose you. We need you.”

She only hugged him tighter.

“I don’t know what to do,” she confessed.

“Nor I,” he soothed. “We have you and the medallion, and things to discuss. You come inside now, and we can figure it out.”

“What if I hurt the kids?” she blurted. “I have all these _feelings_ -“

“None of them are geared to hurt our babies,” he said firmly. He held her face in his hands. “Elena, before I let you inside, and at them, I need to tell you something.”

She fortified with a big breath in.

“You recall when Aria was born, she was so small, and they told us she was conceived after Toby. They said she was not his age,” he said quickly. “She wasn’t. The gods have meddled with us.”

“Loki?” she said, and he frowned at her. “I dreamt about it.”

“Around about the time you and I started to… play?” he guessed. “You mentioned the day you came to me for our first date. The night we first were together, in this era. You said you’d dreamt of gods…”

“Yeah…?” She sniffed. “I didn’t – think about it. I just assumed it was my hormones all out of whack and associating you with old gods. Why?”

He nodded slowly.

“There is no easy way to explain…” he said quietly. “That Aria is a half vampire.”

“Oh,” Elena said, and her eyes flicked across his face, as though reading his thoughts. “ _Oh._ That… makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“I thought so too,” he murmured, and pulled her in for a kiss. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, is she?”

“She’s fine. Pleased. We’ve been plying her with blood.”

“I need – I want –“ she swallowed. “Is there some for me?”

“Of course, my love,” he said warmly, and kissed her lips. He held her there, stroking the panes of her face for a moment.

“We need to call Camille for the kids,” she mumbled against his mouth. “Our family is so dramatic.”

“Later,” he agreed, and pushed the door open, calling out: “Jeremy, invite your sister inside, please.”

From upstairs, he hesitated, then hollered out to _come in, sis_.

Elena crossed the threshold to her old home, and immediately looked down at the open box of blood by her ankles.

“Not that one,” Elijah said coolly, as her hand hovered by it.

“Why?”

“O neg,” he said, and shrugged. “I’m not kissing you when you taste like O neg, my love. I have to draw a line somewhere.”

To spite a gloriously foul mood, she smiled at him. She felt her soul trembling to realize how much she loved that man. She plucked a bag out without looking and felt her eyes swirling to black, fangs easing from the place they were hidden in her gums.

“Want some?” she purred.

“If I start,” he told her gently. “We won’t stop.”

“You say it like I don’t _know_ that,” she muttered, and bit into the bag. She was a clean eater, and all of the blood poured into her mouth without a drop going to waste. When it was done, he swiped his thumb over her lip and collected the tiny excess – she sucked on it.

“Time for me to leave, I think,” Stefan said.

“Don’t take it personally, mate,” Kol advised him. “They’re always like that.”

* * *

That night, the kids snuggled between them in her old room, they discussed everything and bought to light what had happened to her from the moment she touched down in time to what she had been through when she'd been pregnant and on the run to the subtle nuances of what were her deepest fears. _Everything_ , everything. There were going to no more secrets.

When he explained the happenings of the gods, Elena's heart started to throb uncomfortably hard with fear.

Elena stared across at her lover and wondered at the beauty of his moonlit features. As far as the vampire thing had gone so far... it wasn't half bad.

“So now we’re playing with gods,” she whispered.

“More like they’re playing with us. There's apparently some old grievance between Thor and Aries,” he replied. He stopped playing with Aria’s hair at her tiny shifting, then saw her flail a little hand out to knock her brother’s shoulder, and lay still once more. He resumed petting rhythmically, possibly to soothe himself rather than the child. “That Mikeal hasn’t thus far made another move is alarming.”

“I think he doesn’t know what to do,” she said evenly. “He can’t use me to open the seal on the box anymore. But he won’t hurt his grandkids. He wanted to swap me for Freya, but now he has nothing to trade.”

“A pity he never had your forethought,” he murmured, eyes glittering with pride. “A bow made out of a tent post, Elena.”

“It shot,” she said with a little laugh. “It wasn’t a good hit, but it at least made something move.”

“Of course it did, my clever love,” he said over the top of their children’s sleeping heads. He gazed at her for a while more, and she returned the favor, almost in disbelief that she could still see him in the dark. He was just differently colored, now. It was like wearing lenses that cast him in deep blues and greys. He had been handsome before, but now he was stunning. 

And tired, if the shadows under his eyes were any indication. 

“You should be sleeping,” she teased him. “I know you haven’t slept.”

“I couldn’t shut my eyes without seeing you there,” he told her. “Of seeing you with my father, and with my little girl held hostage. Sleep would’ve only provoked me. Toby kept my grounding.”

She reached over and touched his face, stroking his high cheekbone, and his serious brow.

“I love you,” she told him, just because she could. She couldn’t fix his past, only his present, and hopefully his future.

“I love you,” he promised her. He turned his head to press kisses to her fingers. “You’re not unhappy, as a vampire, are you?”

“No,” she said serenely.

“You didn’t want to turn when I asked you,” he murmured.

“I didn’t say no, I said not right now. I wanted to be the same age as you,” she confessed, and pulled her hand back to tuck it under her cheek. “I wanted to be like, thirty.”

“Oh really,” he mused. “I’m a little older than like, thirty.”

“Thirty was good for me,” she shrugged. “I didn’t want to be the eternal baby momma. I wanted to look like I was in your league.”

“Oh for the love of-“ he started.

“Well I _did_ ,” she said. “People always think you’re my sugar daddy.”

“I _am_ your sugar daddy,” he reminded her.

“You’re the love of my life,” she retorted. “I want it to look like it if we're gonna do this for hundreds of years.”

He beamed at her. He leaned up on his elbow, and meant to lean over the kids and kiss her. But Aria flailed and punched him square in the nose, making him huff and Elena try and smother her giggles behind her son’s head.

“What was that?” Toby said, and then again in Nordic.

“Why is my son speaking in tongues?” Elena whispered, still snickering.

Elijah rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“He’s speaking the old tongue,” he informed her with a pretend scowl. “Why is it I’m the one she always hits?”

“Love hurts,” she informed him, and kissed her own fingers to trail them delicately over his proud nose. She stroked his mouth until it smiled, and then fondly tapped his chin. “Lay down. We all need some sleep.”


	41. Rapture

* * *

**Eight Years Later**

* * *

“We did good,” Elena told Elijah one day, almost absently, getting a little sneak of the kids through the kitchen window.

“We did the best,” Elijah said, kissing the side of her head.

The kids had invited their friends over for their joint sixteenth birthday celebration (they weren’t allowed to have a friends _and_ family joint affair, because the last one left three kids compelled to forget most of the events and one in hospital, _thanks Klaus_ ,) and were sitting around the fire pit playing truth or dare.

“Oh my god, your parents are so super in love,” cooed one of the girls, spying them through the window.

Elena hastily shut the curtain and turned her ear toward the shadowed glass, listening to see if Aria would be annoyed to be snooped on or not.

“Yeah,” Aria said with a shrug.

“Your dad is kinda hot,” the girl said. “Actually… he’s hot. Just – yeah. Yeah, he’s hot.”

“Ew,” Aria said.

“My bad,” the girl said for apology. Although she couldn’t have been that sorry, because she followed it up with: “But like, he’s still hot. Like, spank me professor, hot.”

Elena pulled open the curtain to shoot her a flinty glare, and felt Elijah smile against her ear, winding his arms around her waist a little tighter than necessary.

“She’s sixteen,” he reminded her.

“I’m not that hungry,” she defended.

“That girl is all hormones. She doesn’t mean anything she says.”

“Yes she does,” Elena retorted. “Only one of us has actually been a sixteen year old girl, thank you.”

“Woah,” the kid said, blinking at her. “She’s, like, glaring at me…”

“She gets jealous,” Aria dismissed. She pursed her lips at them, arching The Brow she had copied from her father. “Which she wouldn’t if she wasn’t always spying on me.”

Elijah mouthed an apology over Elena’s shoulder, but Aria just rolled her eyes.

“How can she even hear me from all the way over there and behind a shut window?” the human friend complained. “Ooh I just got hella shivers, man, that’s a _hell_ of a look…”

“One time she made our waitress cry for complimenting my dad’s wine selection,” Aria recalled blandly. “She’s really nasty when she’s jealous.”

“But she seems so nice?” The girl said, bewildered.

“She is,” Ari agreed. “But where do you think Toby gets his jealous streak from?”

“I actually thought it came from your cousin Caroline.”

“She’s not my cousin,” Aria said dismissively. 

“But shit, Ari. Your mom is still glaring… like she literally heard me?”

“She can sense when people are doing the Up and Down Thing. I wouldn’t worry about it. She’s mostly harmless,” Aria told the girl. “She’ll go away in a second, but if I were you I’d stop making eyes at my dad.”

“I’m just _looking_ ,” the kid pouted, and gave their daughter a smirk. “Nothing wrong with looking.”

“There’s something very wrong with looking,” Elena told the window, well out of hearing of both teenage girls. “You’re sixteen, stop looking at my man.”

Elijah snickered, steering her aside to pin her back against the wall, hands tight on her ass as he hauled her to him. She _meep_ ed against his mouth in surprise and put her hands flat to his chest, giving a little push.

“There are kids-“ she started. She glanced to the side, but they were well out of view, so she breathed out a pleased little hum and tilted her body to align with his.

“I’m distracting you.” He turned her chin to his and licked her lower lip. “Distraction is a key element, in chasing and being chased.”

“It’s working,” she replied with a wicked grin. “You caught me.”

“What else is new?” he drawled, and indulged her hungry kiss.

Greedy hands yanked the tails of his shirt upward to get her hands on his bare skin, already beginning to gyrate against the thigh he’d wedged between her legs. God he smelled so good, and he felt even better, and her heart was full and warm. But her brain would not shut up.

“That girl is trouble,” Elena panted into his mouth. “She’s been drinking-“

“It’s lollywater, and she had one drink,” Elijah said coolly. “Aria had one too.”

“No, not about the drinking –“ Elena had monitored, of course, who was drinking what. Aria was sixteen and passingly interested in alcohol. Elena, in comparison, had been a cheerleader, and had started partying well before then. She took her cool momma victories where she could. “You can’t wear – these suits – when Aria’s friends –“

“My suits are modest,” he informed her.

“They make you look like a professor,” she rebutted. “They make you look like you want to dole out a spanking, and then be sat on.”

“That’s why I wear them,” he cooed. “For you to take a seat, Miss Gilbert.”

“That’s something we can explore later,” she panted. “Mr. Mikealson.”

“Mm, yes, we should,“ Elijah muttered against her lip, working himself up between her legs, nursing his hardness in the crux of her thighs. “Have I ever told you…That I find it… incomprehensibly sexy… when you call me yours?”

She licked his lip with a flick of her tongue.

“You think I don’t _know_?”

“Well in that case, my love-“ He got on his knees, wrestling her jeans down her legs.

“There are kids-“ she protested weakly.

“They’re outside.“

“Elijah-“ She bucked against his insistent tongue already massaging her clit. “ _Elijah,_ I want you, god, I want you, but they could walk in!“

“Niklaus will protect their innocent gaze,” he cooed, and tugged her jeans down over her knees, opening her up to his adoring eyes. “Ah, so pretty…”

“What do you mean, Klaus? Klaus wasn’t invited-” she cut off, mouth opening into a perfect ‘O’. Seriously, vampire nerves were the fucking best. The merest brush of his tongue had her flooding with want, and the little voice in her head promised to keep one ear out for advancing teenagers.

He dove in tongue first and she gripped his head, tilting her hips at him to rut against his face. She tried really hard to keep her eyes open, but it was either her eyes open or her mouth shut, and only one of those things was truly important because she didn’t need Klaus over hearing all her sex noises.

“In,” she puffed. “In, more, please, I need you, more, now-“

Elijah turned her around, hands flat over hers on the wall. He was so hard, and she so wet, that he slipped right inside her with a careful roll of his hips. He was still fully clothed, just mussed and unzipped. She bit back a groan at the feel of him pinning her hands, and arched her back for him to hit the right spot.

“Distraction,” he said softly against her ear. He purred when she squirmed, and dropped his hands to hold her waist, bring her back to slap against his hips hard. “My poor love. Did you need something?”

“If you don’t move-“ she hissed. “You are on the couch, and I am _not_ joking.”

“I don’t mind the couch,” he admitted. Sharp teeth pinched her ear to earn a soft gasp of admonishment. “But I do so hate to be kept from my pretty, clever love.” He started to drive into her but she shoved the wall to make him bump into her and step back, sliding loose of her body.

“Not in the kitchen,” she demanded, yanking him closer by the tie.

“Bed,” he agreed, hoisting her over his shoulder.

* * *

“C’mon, Toby!” hollered one of the girls. “Pick someone!”

“Okay,” Toby said with a mock-thoughtful hum, looking around for inspiration. He cracked a sudden grin and she shifted uncomfortably. He looked a lot like Aria, when he smiled like that, and the both of them looked a lot like their uncle Kol in one of his manic fits. “Hope, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” she said with a blasé shrug.

“On a scale of one to ten…” Toby grinned. “Whose idea was it for you to steal your dad’s corvette, and how fast did it get?”

“Mine,” she said a flirty look at the guy beside her on the bench. “I hit one fifty on the back road near my step-dad’s place near the bayou, and I’ve got it for the weekend.”

“It’s a nice ride,” purred John.

“You wanna ride?” she said, falsely innocent. “Because I can take you.”

“I _think_ -“ Klaus said loudly, wedging himself between the two bodies on the bench. Toby cracked up laughing, slapping his thigh, and Hope lost all the colour in her cheeks. “I’d really rather you _didn’t_ , sweetheart. Hello boy, I’m Klaus. Hope’s father.”

“Dad,” she hissed. “You’re _not supposed to be here_ -!”

“I was lurking,” he said without shame. “Because as you well know, your aunt and uncle have a tendency to leave you lot _unattended_! I wouldn’t worry! An actual adult is here now!” he called out in the direction of the house.

“Dad-“ Hope lamented. “We’re not even drinking-“

“Those four are,” he said flatly.

“I’m already drunk,” supplied one of the girls. The one Aria had been talking to, the one who’d looked Elijah up and down. “Like, I’m super sorry Mr. dad-man, but I finished my vodka like ten minutes ago. My bad.”

Klaus huffed like a bothered horse.

“You know _what_ -!” Klaus said. “Let’s turn the music up, shall we? Why don’t we dance anymore at parties, hm?”

“If you saw how Hope dances you’d have a heart attack,” Aria informed him warily.

“ _Shut up_ ,” Hope hissed under her breath, shooting her a deadly narrow eyed look. “I know where you keep your journal!”

“Last time I checked,” Aria said, lowering her head like a bull. “You still don’t like spiders.”

“If you sneak those things into my room again-“ Hope began.

“It’ll just be the egg sac,” Aria muttered. “And you won’t even notice it until it’s too late.”

“Guys,” Toby reminded them firmly. “Witnesses.”

“Fine,” Hope huffed. “We can wait until later.”

“Thank god,” Klaus muttered.

“Which one?” Aria and Toby said in sync.

It was a joke that was often lost on the rest of their human clique, but it never failed to get a chuckle out of their uncle.

* * *

Beyond the scope of his rifle, Mikeal watched Klaus keep the party distracted. There was dancing and revelry and s’mores being melted over the fire, and he took his sulking daughter by the hand and spun her around in an old foxtrot until she was grinning once more.

He watched the boy who was now a parent observe the children, watched him smile and scowl and make nice – watched him interfere with a brawl and empty the rest of the warming drinks into the garden.

“You see?” Freya murmured. “Still doing menial, good things.”

“Hardly good,” Mikeal said self-importantly.

“It isn’t evil,” she amended.

She sat beside him on that tall building, watching her father keep the cross hairs aimed on her half-brother’s breast.

“Aries still hasn’t called?” she said thoughtfully. “You haven’t had any dreams?”

“No,” he grumped.

“No visions?”

“None,” he said flatly.

“And the urge to kill Klaus?” she prompted.

“Still in check,” he confirmed, and released the trigger. He unloaded the weapon with efficient hands, disassembling it in a mere blur. He loaded it into a discreet case and then sighed, twirling the scope in his fingers. “I do not believe it is the meddling of a god that has made my rage ignite. I hated the bastard long before I was ever tasked to kill him.”

“Which would likely be why you were open to being manipulated,” Freya acknowledged. “Rage makes a fool of the wisest men, father. It was a weakness that Aries exploited.”

“I was never weak-“ he started.

“Then how did he lure you in, and no one else in the village?” she said, exasperated. It was not the first time she had argued the truth of it. “Mother, even Daliah, were more dangerous than you in a number of ways. If he wanted to maximize his impact on war alone, he should’ve gone after them first.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t like witches,” Mikeal suggested boredly.

Freya was fairly done with having the conversation. It only ever went around in a circle.

“How was Rome?” she asked him.

“Full of vermin.”

“Did you see some sights?”

“I enjoyed the city, yes.” His eyes found hers, glittering with something warm and pleased. “I found your suggestion very helpful, and I enjoyed the quiet tunnels under the cathedral as you guessed I might. A tricky little place it was to find, indeed.”

“I’m glad you got to see it,” she told him with a bright smile. “You seem refreshed.”

“I feel it,” he agreed, and sat beside her. He rubbed his eyes, then looked at her, a small smile on his lips. “The first time in a thousand years, I am seeing the world through new eyes. It is a gift to have you, and your curious mind, and open heart. I have never known the world until you were alive to me once more.”

“I do love you,” she said warmly.

“And I love you, my golden girl,” he said proudly. “If not for your obsession with protecting and reforming your half-brother-“

Her smile dropped.

“Father,” she said testily. “Must we go through this again?”

“He is your opposite in every way,” Mikeal said, putting a hand over hers. “My daughter, he does not treat you well. If you tell me I must forget my vendetta I will, if it means you will come away with me and be safe.”

Freya didn’t bat an eye. It wasn’t the first time he’d made the offer.

“If your grievance is with what Klaus was born as, and that I am built to kill vampires, I will have to turn my back on you just the same. It would make an enemy of you both to renounce my love.” She shook her head, covering his hand with her free one and giving a squeeze. “No. I will not. I believe there is a world that we can live in harmony, and be a family again.”

“You’ll never be my enemy, Freya,” he informed her. “Even once the cretin is disposed of. Even if you stand aside from the brawl rather than with me, you won’t ever be my enemy.”

She was quiet. He watched her think it through.

“I’m going to fix this, father,” she promised him.

“You’re going to try,” he agreed.

“No.” she shook her head. “For the kids. I have to fix it. I’d rather die than see my nieces and nephew suffer in loneliness the way I was made suffer. They have their parents, and their lives all in perfect order. They are loved and loving of each other. I won’t ever take that away, nor will I let anyone else steal the precious happiness this family is owed.”

“Such strength,” Mikeal said, taking her hand. He pressed a loving kiss to her knuckles. “Such light. You fight for me even when I threaten your beloved half-cast.”

“You’re my family too,” she reminded him.

Things were going to be okay. Once she solved how to get Aries’ hold off of him, he’d be safe to take home to the family. Finally Klaus could have his closure, and Elena and Elijah could have the safety of knowing for certain that he wasn’t around and about, watching their children from afar.

The problem was, the rest of the people who believed in Aries to give him his power were all the people she loved. There was no point trying to make them forget; she had tried, and it hadn’t worked. She’d even spoken to Thor and Sif about it, to no avail.

“If it will put you in danger-“ Mikeal began.

“You can’t ask me not to meddle, when the only reason we aren’t a whole and well family is because a stray god decided to take your sword into his name.” Making herself straighten, she was nearly his exact height. “It’s all I want in the world, to have us all be together. God or no god, I will not bend my knee if my family is kept removed.”

“Nor would I ask you to renege anything you desire so wholly,” Mikeal placated. “I just want you to prepare that tender heart for the eventuality that I will not be readily accepted into their fold.”

“It will never be easy,” she said confidently. “There is too much pain and history, and bad habits to break. Not to mention while Aries and Thor stay at odds with each other, and you are made his puppet? I cannot fathom the end as yet, but I’m getting close. I know it’s been – I know it’s been years… but I’m getting close. He’s being forgotten as we speak. Once there are less people who take his name seriously, I’ll be able to break the hatred in you, I promise. I’ll get the medallion. I’ll destroy the god of war if I have to.”

“I hear you, daughter mine,” he said softly. He cupped her face. “I believe you. I love you, and I trust you. I want you only to be happy. But this thing you are attempting is impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” she said. “I have the will and the means.”

“The means?” He furrowed his brow. “You’ve discovered how to kill a god?”

“Not to kill him,” she said thoughtfully. “To make him _behave_. If Thor is his enemy, that suggests the thunder god is dangerous to him somehow. You know the gifts given to your grandchildren are from his hands. So if I can harness that power and have Aries summoned, I can hopefully wound him enough to teach him a lesson.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Mikeal said immediately. “I cannot allow it.”

“You won’t have to,” Freya agreed. “Because I haven’t done it yet, and I don’t have the means to, but when I do - will you stand with me…? Even if it means standing with Klaus?”

Mikeal’s sigh was rather dramatic in scale, but entirely false, judging by the glitter of amusement in his eye.

“You are my first born and the legacy I will leave on this earth,” he said, voice low. “If you ask me to stand by you, I will always stand. I may not keep my tongue from lashing the boy, but I should be able to keep my hands to myself well enough.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Her smile was wide and fond. “I’m close to it. I know I am. I’ve thought about going to Rome into those tunnels I just sent you through, where I spent a year in the sixteen hundreds. I left behind a-“

* * *

The sonorous bellow made everyone in the state deaf for three full minutes.

Elijah and Elena hastily dressed to stumble outside with their hands over their ears, searching for the kids. They hustled everyone into the house and waited for the infernal ringing to stop, wide eyes searching for what had caused the awful racket.

First came the pitched alarms of shaken cars and houses. Second came the echo of that huge boom. Third, and last, muffled screaming could be distinguished.

The door swung open sharply and Mikeal fell to his knees in the doorway, face wet with tears. His mouth was moving around desperate, hurried words, but no one could hear.

“Mikeal?” Elena said timidly. She hadn’t seen him since she’d stripped him and left him dead in the woods. He was, in a word, devastated. He let out a howl she could only just hear, and rubbed the center of her ear.

He _howled_.

“Mike.” Aria said, low and throaty.

Static made the hair on Elena’s arms stand up.

Staring in awe at this undone man before her, Elena blinked and parted her dry mouth. She took one step closer, immediately withheld by Klaus’ hand under her elbow. He didn’t pull her, but he stopped the enigmatic draw she felt to comfort him.

“Mikeal?” she said again. The ringing was starting to clear, and Mikeal’s head was hung low. He’d stopped screaming, but his arms were trembling. Elena took another step forward, half leaving her arm behind in Klaus’ steely grip.

A tear fell from the Original’s face and onto the threshold of her floor. Several more followed in quick succession. The man who had been a monster slipped his grip and planted his hands on the ground, bowed to them all as he sobbed louder and louder as the sound filtered back in.

“What is the meaning of this?” Elijah said coldly.

Elena rephrased:

“What’s wrong?”

As though his head weighed a ton, Mikeal lifted his wet, stricken face to them, unashamedly bawling his eyes out.

“ _Freya_ ,” he wept. “Aries – has taken – my daughter-“

“Auntie Frey?” Hope breathed. “He – he what? Why? No. _No,_ he can’t. She’s not in his dominion – she serves the Nordic gods, this is a- an act of-“

“War,” Klaus said faintly. His fingers slipped from Elena’s wrist. “Aries has taken her hostage to aggravate our old gods. He’s starting a war with us his pawns.”

“She had a way-“ Mikeal heaved. “A way to – she wanted to unmake – she wanted to make us a family – to destroy his claim to me-“

“If she had been close,” Toby said quietly, coming to stand near his mother. “Then he would’ve known. They always know when things like that are happening.”

The big teen took in a deep, calming breath, and let it out. It made the air smell of metal and electricity.

“Tobes,” Aria said under her breath. “You’d better make a call to Mr. T.”

“Yeah,” he said agreeably. “Thor’ll be pissed. Expect a storm.”

“My daughter -“ Mikeal pleaded. “That - vicious - prick-! Has my _daughter_ -“

“Take a breath. We will retrieve her. It won’t take long,” Klaus murmured. He looked dazed, and hadn’t blinked in a long time, almost deer-in-the-headlights when Mikeal looked at him in such a pitiful position on his knees. He spoke as though he'd been screaming, his throat rough. “War god or no. _That_ is my sister. Aries will pay, and Freya will be returned.”

Mikeal hung his head. Tears fell even faster, sobs hitching in his chest.

“You have my word,” Elijah echoed. He had taken Aria’s hand in his own, and looked to Elena over the top of her head. Studying her face, he gave a tight nod of understanding. “Our vow. We will do whatever we must to bring Freya home.”

Ugly crying made a racket in the otherwise silent house. Outside, people were starting to scream at the damages that had been laid around them. Alarms continued to sound. Someone shouted about the _rapture_ , and it set off a wave of urgent and frightened movement. Cars, bags, running feet. Screams, crying, heavy breathing. 

“Well, _Mike_ ,” Aria said, voice hard. “Get up. We have a fucking plan to make."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....  
> Oooh, ain't that a bitch of a place to leave a story?  
> The sequel won't be as long!!! But it'll take me a while to write. In the mean time!  
> I love y'all, have a good day, and please review!  
> It makes the muse good and full to poke at, I swear.  
> xx


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